


Blacktop Rivalries

by DeathBelle



Series: Blacktop Rivalries [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Background ushioi, Biting, Cigarettes, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, FaceFucking, Leather Jackets, M/M, Motorcycle Gang!AU, Motorcycles, Mutual Pining, Rival Gangs Seijoh and Shiratorizawa, Secret Hookups, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: When Oikawa first put together the motorcycle gang, Iwaizumi thought it was stupid. Now, several years later, the best days of his life are when he's on the road, lost in the rush of the wind and the thrill of the ride. It's by chance that he meets a fellow biker on a solo ride, and the two of them get along a little too well.Everything is great until Iwaizumi discovers Semi Eita is a member of Shiratorizawa, a rival biker gang that he has been conditioned to despise. They agree it's in their best interest to stop seeing each other before anyone discovers the affair.As it turns out, that's easier said than done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NicheTales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicheTales/gifts).



> Someone said the words "IwaSemi Motorcycle Gang AU" to me and I was gone.
> 
> You can ~~thank~~ _blame_ Avery aka Nichekinks for this.
> 
> *Will be updated weekly.*

The silver bike was back, and it was parked directly in Iwaizumi’s way.

His Harley roared beneath him as the wheels crunched over the gravel. He stalled at the edge of the dirt square he’d used as a parking spot for the past two years. It was shaded by a canopy of branches, the sunlight filtering through the leaves and dappling the shiny paint job on the sleek silver motorcycle. It had been well-maintained. The body was spotless, the only visible dirt ground into the treads of the tires. 

Iwaizumi thought about kicking the damn thing over.

Instead he eased the throttle forward and parked to the side, where the sun would soak into the leather seat of his bike and make it uncomfortably warm. He swung a leg over and engaged the kickstand, raising his arms overhead in a spine-cracking stretch. He’d been riding for nearly two hours, which wouldn’t have bothered him several years ago. As he flirted ever closer to thirty, his body grew stiffer every time he took a lengthy ride. 

If Oikawa had been there, he would have made a joke at Iwaizumi’s expense. He would’ve called him an old man, or said maybe Iwaizumi should consider trading in his Harley for a cane. Iwaizumi would’ve hit him, and Oikawa would have complained for at least twenty minutes afterward.

But Oikawa wasn’t there, and as Iwaizumi pulled off his helmet, the copse of trees remained blissfully silent.

It would have been a perfect day, if an idiot stranger hadn’t parked in Iwaizumi’s spot.

He scuffed toward the trees, puffs of dirt stirring around the soles of his boots, and slipped through a cluster of branches to reach the clearing beyond. The distant rush of ocean waves and the muted cries of seagulls swirled in the salt-kissed breeze. There were a pair of sun-bleached picnic tables that were rarely used, a low cliff overlooking Sendai Bay, and a single man standing at the edge, arms folded as he stared out at the water.

This overlook wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t frequented by many people, either. There were other scenic stops along this road that attracted more traffic, and a rest stop a couple miles ahead that lured in most bikers.

But Iwaizumi preferred this spot, and judging by the silver bike that had been there the past few times he’d stopped, this man did, too.

Iwaizumi stepped up on the bench of a picnic table and sat on the edge, the old wood creaking beneath his weight. He leaned back on his hands, the rough surface threatening to splinter into his palms.

The stranger glanced over his shoulder, taking in Iwaizumi with a cut of sharp eyes, before refocusing on the bay. A puff of smoke drifted away on the wind and he tapped cigarette ash onto the dirt.

Iwaizumi took a few minutes to enjoy the serene atmosphere, appreciating the quiet and suppressing his mild annoyance, before reaching into his jacket for his own pack of cigarettes.

For the past three years he’d insisted he was quitting.

It hadn’t happened yet, but it was still part of the plan.

He tapped one out, held it between his lips, and fished through his pockets for a lighter. After a minute of searching, he realized he’d either misplaced it or forgotten it. 

Iwaizumi could wait until he got back home, but it was almost an hour’s ride and he didn’t want to fend off a nicotine craving that long. The need for it was already gnawing at him like a hungry wolf. 

Ahead of him, the stranger dropped his cigarette in the dirt and ground it out beneath the heel of his boot.

Iwaizumi was inclined to dislike the man because of his stolen parking spot. He certainly didn’t want to ask him for anything.

Regardless, he called out, “Hey, can I get a light?”

The stranger looked back at him. He didn’t immediately move as he considered the request, but finally turned away from the view to approach the picnic table.

“Here,” he said, tossing the lighter.

Iwaizumi caught it easily. He flicked it to life, singed the end of his cigarette, and tossed it back. “Thanks.”

The stranger nodded and tucked it back inside his jacket. “I’ve seen you here a few times,” he said, looking out at the water again. “You come out a lot?”

Iwaizumi shrugged and exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose. “I’ve been coming here for a couple years now, I guess. My life is too loud. I like the quiet sometimes.”

The man nodded and leaned back against the table, leather squeaking as he folded his arms. His hair was in disarray from the press of his helmet, strands scattered in all directions, pale dipped in dark ash. He pushed it back, still looking out at the distance as he said, “I’m Semi. Semi Eita.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

The stranger – Semi – nodded in acknowledgment. 

Iwaizumi took another drag of his cigarette and found that he didn’t dislike this man quite as much as he’d thought. Semi had parked in his spot, but he didn’t seem to be a bad guy, overall. He was polite, and he’d enabled Iwaizumi’s nicotine addiction.

Iwaizumi appreciated the quiet, but he didn’t mind the occasional conversation, either.

“I’m guessing that’s your bike out there?” said Iwaizumi, gesturing toward the trees. “The Kawasaki?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He didn’t quite smile, but the sharp set of his eyebrows softened. “Got it a few months ago. Rides like a dream.” He eyed Iwaizumi, lingering on his time-worn leather jacket. 

Iwaizumi had a nicer one, emblazoned with the name of the gang Oikawa had started up several years before, but he didn’t wear it when he was alone. Some people – namely other gangs – didn’t take kindly to the emblem. 

Iwaizumi wasn’t one to turn down a fight, but even he didn’t want to find himself in the middle of an aggressive group of rival bikers with no one to have his back.

“What do you ride?” asked Semi, when it seemed he’d confirmed Iwaizumi was a biker, too.

“A Sportster.”

Semi snorted, mouth quirking to one side. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” said Semi. He glanced at Iwaizumi again. “You just look like the type.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an insult. It could easily be interpreted as one, but Semi’s tone didn’t suggest offense. Instead of jumping to an affronted conclusion, as he usually would have done, Iwaizumi simply said, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

The quirk of Semi’s mouth pulled higher. “You should. I meant it as one.”

That could have been the end of the conversation. They fell into a peaceful, natural lull, and Semi didn’t speak again.

Those could have been the last words they exchanged, and Iwaizumi could have gone on about his day as planned. 

Instead he took another puff of his cigarette and said, “You from around here?”

Semi was. They were from the same prefecture, had grown up a half-hour drive from one another, and had frequented some of the same clubs and hangouts in their younger days. It was surprising they hadn’t run into each other before, but Iwaizumi knew they hadn’t. He would’ve remembered someone like Semi.

Semi laughed at something Iwaizumi said. It was low and raspy, lines crinkling from the corner of his eyes as he smiled.

Semi was attractive. Iwaizumi would go as far as to say stunning. No one could have denied it. More than that, and what really captured Iwaizumi’s attention, was that Semi looked strong; the set of his jaw, the width of his shoulders, the way he carried himself with absolute confidence. It was appealing, and Iwaizumi’s stare lingered a bit longer than he’d intended.

Semi glanced over and caught him looking, their gazes forging a link of shared heat. Iwaizumi should have looked away, but he didn’t. 

It was Semi who broke the stare first. He looked out at the water one last time before stepping up on the bench and sitting on the table beside Iwaizumi.

It was a large picnic table, wide enough to seat at least four people on either side. Despite the space, Semi sat right beside him, so close that their knees touched.

Semi lit another cigarette. He took a drag and offered it to Iwaizumi, their fingers brushing as he accepted it.

“You doing anything after this?” asked Semi.

Iwaizumi inhaled a breath of smoke. His stomach lurched, but not unpleasantly. It was the sensation of sloping down a hill while riding too fast, the wind in his hair and a swoop in his gut. 

He tapped off a bit of ash and passed the cigarette back. This time when his hand nudged against Semi’s, he let it linger.

“No,” he said, low and raspy from the smoke in his throat. “I’m not doing anything.”

Semi gave him a quirked smile and looked out across the water. Iwaizumi did the same, his heart kicking a little faster.

Iwaizumi wanted to take back his rude thoughts about the silver bike. It could park in his spot anytime.

  
  
  
  
  
They ended up at Iwaizumi’s place, standing on the doorstep of his apartment just long enough to share another cigarette. 

Iwaizumi’s bike was parked in the same spot as always, between a concrete curb and his neighbor’s compact sedan. The paint was glossy black, a sharp contrast to the shiny silver Kawasaki propped up at its side.

It had been a forty-five minute ride from the overlook. Whatever tension had blossomed between them had dissolved as soon as they hit the asphalt, swept away on the wind. They’d slipped around each other on the road, Iwaizumi leading at times, Semi sliding in front of him at others, the two of them riding abreast when space and traffic allowed it. Iwaizumi didn’t fool himself into thinking he could’ve kept up with Semi if they’d truly been competing for speed. Iwaizumi’s motorcycle was fast, but Semi's was built solely for speed. 

As soon as they’d arrived and dismounted, the tension had returned. Now, as Iwaizumi snuffed out the cigarette and unlocked his apartment, it reached its peak.

There was a buzz in his fingertips as he crouched to unlace his boots, and a flutter in his gut as he shrugged off his jacket, the leather a smooth slide against his skin.

There was another slide along his arm, this one warmer.

Semi’s fingers lingered at his shoulder, tracing the line of his bicep, before dropping away. He combed a hand through his own helmet-flattened hair.

“Nice place,” said Semi, giving the apartment a cursory glance before returning his attention to Iwaizumi.

“Thanks,” said Iwaizumi. He looked around too, as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before. 

Silence lingered between them, edging toward uncomfortable. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious why they were here. Neither of them had been very subtle about their intentions. Still, this wasn’t common practice for him. He didn’t know how to start or what to say.

Semi spared him the trouble.

Firm hands braced against Iwaizumi’s chest and his back was against the wall, caged in by strong arms and broad shoulders. Semi’s hair drooped onto his forehead, into one eye, but the other glinted like smoldering steel as he pressed close, the lines of his body strong against Iwaizumi’s.

Semi’s lips were rough from the chafe of too many cigarettes. He kissed slowly at first, almost warily, but became more insistent as their lips moved together, firm and eager. Iwaizumi licked at Semi’s mouth, tongue slipping between his lips. Semi tasted of bitter smoke and sweet desire.

Semi’s teeth snagged at Iwaizumi’s lip and he pulled back, a wash of color shading his cheeks. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Iwaizumi’s stomach swooped. Instead of answering, he sidled away from Semi and led him across the apartment, stepping through a doorway and turning on the lights. 

Semi stopped just over the threshold, giving the room a quick sweep and lingering on the unmade bed against the wall. His eyes flicked back to Iwaizumi and stayed there as he slipped out of his jacket, the leather sliding through his fingers and crumpling to the floor. Without prompting, Semi’s shirt followed, ruffling his hair as he pulled it overhead, his muscles shifting beneath pale skin.

Iwaizumi had only a few fleeting seconds to scan the tattoos painting his arms before Semi’s mouth was on him again, and this time Semi didn’t let up until they were on the bed, Iwaizumi on his back and Semi stretched over him, pressed together from chest to thigh.

Iwaizumi grazed his hands over the bare skin of Semi’s back. He kneaded into firm muscle and leaned up to meet him in a kiss. Semi gripped Iwaizumi’s hip and rutted against him, the friction through their jeans both too much and not enough.

Semi propped himself up on one arm, his breath coming in warm bursts. “How do you want to do this?” he asked, eyes dipping to Iwaizumi’s lips, down to his neck, and back again. 

“Doesn’t matter,” said Iwaizumi. He wrapped his hands around Semi’s biceps, dragged his fingertips along dark ink. “What’s your preference?”

“Don’t have one,” said Semi. “I’m fine with whatever.”

“Same.”

Semi’s mouth tilted into a slight smirk. He nudged against Iwaizumi’s jaw and grazed his teeth over the skin of an exposed neck. “How about I top,” said Semi, the words warm against Iwaizumi’s throat. “Since I have to ride back home after this. Might be uncomfortable otherwise.”

Iwaizumi skimmed his palms over Semi’s shoulders and down, lingering at his lower back. “Yeah, okay.”

They sealed the agreement with a taste of lips and tongue, and Semi grinded against him once more before relenting. He slid off the bed and pulled at his belt, metal clinking against metal. 

“Here,” said Iwaizumi. He shuffled to the edge of the bed and then off, kneeling in the floor. He gently pushed Semi’s hands away and unhooked the belt himself before moving on to the button of his thigh-hugging jeans, dragging the zipper down with a glance up at steely eyes.

Semi’s lips were slightly parted, his pupils swelling to devour flinty irises. His hair still fell in his face, a little wild from the cage of his helmet. 

Iwaizumi dug his fingers into the band of Semi’s jeans, tugging, waiting for approval. When Semi nodded, Iwaizumi pulled until the clothing bunched just above his knees, laying him bare.

Iwaizumi spread a hand on Semi’s thigh, smoothed it upward, and brushed a thumb against the base of his half-hard cock. Semi shuddered, his fingers twitching at his sides. Iwaizumi sat back on his heels and took the opportunity to look up at Semi, lingering on his full lips, his solid chest, the tattoos covering him from shoulders to wrists. When he’d looked his fill, he leaned in and took Semi into his mouth.

A hand was tight in his hair immediately, but just as quickly it loosened and pulled away. Iwaizumi groped for it, caught Semi’s fingers, and pressed them back into his own hair. It was silent yet explicit permission, and the grip went tight again as Iwaizumi hollowed his cheeks and sucked.

Iwaizumi squeezed Semi’s thighs and took his quickly hardening cock all the way to the base, his tongue pressing against the underside, flicking at the tip as he pulled back. He kept his heat tilted up, eyes locked with Semi’s as he stretched his lips around his cock until it nudged at the back of his throat.

Semi’s fingers tensed in Iwaizumi’s hair, pulling just enough to hurt, and Iwaizumi’s dick throbbed.

“Fuck, that’s good,” said Semi, his voice a low rasp. “ _Fuck._ ”

Iwaizumi swallowed around his cock, took it a little deeper, and laved his tongue around the mouthful.

Iwaizumi’s scalp stung as Semi’s jerked at his hair, pulling him off.

“Okay, that’s… yeah,” said Semi, taking a shuffling step back. He gripped the base of his cock, fingers sliding in Iwaizumi’s saliva. “Do you want to, umm… take your clothes off?”

Semi’s sturdy façade of confidence faltered, a dark blush coloring his cheeks and rising in patches along his collarbones. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure of the cause, but he didn’t want Semi to be uncomfortable. He stood and pulled his shirt over his head, catching the way Semi’s eyes immediately strayed down to skate across the exposed skin.

Iwaizumi moved on to his jeans, peeling them down his hips, soaking in the sharpness of a steely stare. When he was stripped down, Iwaizumi sat on the edge of the bed and reclined on his hands, as casually as he could manage.

“Second thoughts?” asked Iwaizumi, quirking a brow.

Semi snorted. “Definitely not.” He glanced down, lingering at Iwaizumi’s lap, before again meeting his eyes.

Iwaizumi nodded toward his bedside table and Semi took the hint. He pulled out the top drawer and kicked his jeans the rest of the way off as he combed through the contents. Iwaizumi waited patiently, eyeing the lean lines of Semi’s shoulders and thighs.

When Semi mounted the bed, he straddled Iwaizumi and curved down to kiss him. His mouth was hot, greedy, and Iwaizumi wondered if Semi could taste his own cock on Iwaizumi’s tongue. 

Semi pressed his palms against Iwaizumi’s shoulders, flattened him against the bed, and nudged his ribs.

“Turn over,” said Semi, backing off long enough for him to obey.

Iwaizumi flipped onto his stomach, braced himself on his forearms, and watched Semi over his shoulder. He couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but he was familiar with the slick sound of lube. Semi leaned over him, his cock rubbing against Iwaizumi’s ass and his fingers teasing between his thighs.

Iwaizumi spread his legs a little more, a clear invitation that Semi accepted. He pressed into Iwaizumi, slow but firm, waiting for him to adjust before pushing further. 

Iwaizumi exhaled and willed himself to unwind, welcoming the intrusion of Semi’s fingers, pushing back to indicate he could take more.

Semi curved over him and dragged his lips up Iwaizumi’s shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses against his neck. Iwaizumi tilted his head to the side, giving him room, as another finger slipped inside of him.

“You’re tight,” mumbled Semi. He spread his fingers apart and Iwaizumi squirmed beneath him. “You’re gonna feel great when you take my cock.” 

Iwaizumi bunched his fists into the sheets and bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a moan. Whatever had made Semi hesitate a few moments before had clearly been resolved. He was nothing but confident now as he plunged his fingers deeper into Iwaizumi. He rutted against Iwaizumi’s thigh, leaving a damp spill of precome, and sucked at the juncture of Iwaizumi’s neck and shoulder. His teeth dug in gently and Iwaizumi again pushed back against Semi’s fingers, seeking more. His cock grazed against the sheets, the dry friction unsatisfying.

Semi spread his fingers again before pulling away, catching on the rim as he slid out. Iwaizumi fidgeted but didn’t complain. 

From somewhere behind him there was the crinkle of a foil wrapper and Iwaizumi’s cock jolted in anticipation. He strained his neck to find Semi rolling on a condom and pumping himself a few times to spread more lube. 

Semi grazed his hand along the back of Iwaizumi’s knee, traced up his thigh, and squeezed his ass. He mumbled something under his breath that Iwaizumi didn’t catch, then said more clearly, “How do you want it?”

Iwaizumi licked his lips, still plump from kissing, and watched Semi’s eyes follow the motion. Iwaizumi’s voice scraped low as he said, “However you want to give it to me.”

Semi looked like he’d been slapped. He blinked at Iwaizumi, eyes wide, and that low flush returned to paint his cheeks. “Fuck,” he said. He sat back and ran a hand through his hair, eyes skating to the side. “You can’t just… fuck. Say something like that.”

Iwaizumi snorted and buried his face in his forearms. “You started it.”

“Well yeah, but I didn’t think… hey, stop laughing.”

“You seem like such a badass,” said Iwaizumi, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. “Is that just an act to match the motorcycle?”

“Fuck you. I am a badass,” said Semi. The twitch of his mouth softened the words.

“Yeah? Prove it then.”

The tension between them had been broken, but now it settled on the air again, buzzing like the heat in Iwaizumi’s veins.

“Fine,” said Semi. His voice dropped, brows tucking together. “I will.” 

Iwaizumi felt him move, but didn’t expect the hand that slapped across his ass. He jolted from the sudden impact, the sting making him gasp, his cock twitching against the bedsheets.

“Get on your knees,” said Semi, the command a low growl unlike his voice of a moment before.

Iwaizumi looked back and found eyes of smoldering steel beneath a demanding scowl. 

But Semi’s mouth was still tilted to one side in an almost-smile, and Iwaizumi relaxed at the sight.

He pushed up onto his hands and knees, clutching twin handfuls of sheets, bracing his toes against the mattress. Semi shuffled up behind him, trailing a fingertip over the stinging patch he’d left on Iwaizumi’s ass.

Semi’s cock nudged at Iwaizumi’s balls, slick with lube. He sank his fingers inside Iwaizumi one more time, testing the stretch, before aligning himself. “Ready?”

Iwaizumi grunted an affirmative and tried to keep himself relaxed as Semi slowly pushed into him. His cock was a tighter fit than his fingers, stretching Iwaizumi to a point just short of pain. It speared him open, prompting a shudder that shook him from his hands to his shoulders to his thighs.

Semi paused for breath when he was completely inside. One hand was tight on Iwaizumi’s hip and the other smoothed up the length of his spine. He pulled back and gave a shallow, tentative thrust. “Think you’re good?”

“You don’t have to keep asking,” said Iwaizumi. He rutted back against Semi’s cock, forcing it deeper. “I’ve been fucked before.”

“I’m being courteous. Shut the fuck up.”

“That was very courteous,” said Iwaizumi.

Semi responded to the sarcasm by slamming into Iwaizumi hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Iwaizumi braced his weight on his arms and barely kept himself from toppling onto his face.

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” said Semi, “then I won’t hold back.”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, another snide comment on his tongue, but Semi thrust into him hard enough to make his teeth click. 

He gave Iwaizumi no more time to speak. He pounded into him in a fast rhythm, hips snapping forward, pulling Iwaizumi back to meet the thrusts. His grip on Iwaizumi’s waist was almost bruising. 

Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and dropped onto his elbows, again digging his fists into the sheets. The change in angle sent Semi’s next thrust into just the right spot, and a moan rumbled in Iwaizumi’s chest, low and deep.

Semi hesitated, half-buried inside of Iwaizumi, grip loosening on his waist. He slid one hand up Iwaizumi’s back, slipping in beads of sweat, and lightly wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck. There was a moment of stillness, of uncertainty. Then Semi pushed Iwaizumi down into the mattress and leaned over him, his cock sliding deeper, his weight pinning Iwaizumi in place.

He mouthed at Iwaizumi’s neck and rutted into him, his cock grinding in just the right way to send sparks dancing across Iwaizumi’s vision. 

“Fuck,” said Iwaizumi, breathless from both the pulse of pleasure and Semi’s weight bearing down on him. “Keep doing that.”

Semi knotted a hand in Iwaizumi’s hair and yanked as he thrust into him. 

Iwaizumi bit his lip but a moan slipped through, low and dragging and more desperate than he would have liked.

Semi grumbled a curse and dug his teeth into Iwaizumi’s shoulder; not hard enough to draw blood, but possibly hard enough to bruise.

That made Iwaizumi moan louder.

Semi worked a hand beneath Iwaizumi and wrapped rough fingers around his cock. He stroked at the same pace he fucked while his free hand stayed tight in Iwaizumi’s hair. 

Iwaizumi arched into Semi’s touch, torn between thrusting into his hand and pushing back against his cock. He didn’t have much time to consider it. A spike of pleasure made him gasp and he said, “Harder. Right there, harder, _fuck_.”

Semi obliged, slamming into him at a perfect angle, and Iwaizumi came with a rolling moan. His cock pulsed in Semi’s hand, spraying come across his fingers and onto the sheets. He shuddered from the force of the orgasm, his head swimming and his extremities tingling. 

Semi’s weight disappeared and he pulled out, leaving Iwaizumi feeling empty.

Iwaizumi took a moment to collect himself, floating down with his heartbeat pattering against his chest and his limbs too heavy. When he worked up the energy to roll onto his side, he found Semi peeling off the condom, his cock still rigid.

“Hey,” said Iwaizumi. His voice was a little hoarse, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “You could’ve finished.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Semi. “I hate being fucked after I just came. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind it,” said Iwaizumi. He rolled completely over and propped himself up on his elbows, eyes traveling along the line of Semi’s neck, down to his broad shoulders, and then further to his toned stomach. His cock curved proudly just below it, hard and leaking.

Semi shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

Iwaizumi snorted. He gathered his knees beneath him and shuffled closer to Semi, unintentionally dragging his foot through his own come. “Sit back. I’ll take care of that for you.”

Semi licked his lips at the offer, his eyes dipping to Iwaizumi’s mouth before he settled back against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Iwaizumi crawled between Semi’s knees, nudging at his cock and receiving a shaky breath in return. He dragged his tongue across Semi’s balls, mouthed at them, and braced his hands against Semi’s inner thighs to keep him from clamping his legs shut. He flicked a glance upward to find Semi watching him with half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, his chest rising and falling with his panting breaths. His hair was messier than it had been when they’d arrived and his pupils were blown so wide that the steel of his eyes was barely there.

He looked wrecked, and Iwaizumi thrived on it.

Iwaizumi stretched his lips around Semi’s cock and sank down on it, taking the full length, bobbing back up just to slide down again. He kept one hand near the base of Semi's cock, thumbing idly at his balls, as he sucked him off.

Semi’s hips bucked beneath him. His thighs twitched and his fingers curled into the bedsheets, briefly, before he reached out to bury them in Iwaizumi’s hair instead. He tilted his head back and moaned, low and raspy. “Ahh fuck, Iwa- _ah_ …” He thrust shallowly upward and Iwaizumi pulled back just enough to keep from choking. “Shit. I’m going to come. I’m going to – _ahnnn_ , fuck, _fuck!_ ”

Iwaizumi gripped solid thighs and suctioned his mouth around Semi’s cock as he came. The bitter heat shot into his mouth, tickling at his throat, and he swallowed it down. He waited until Semi stopped pulsing on his tongue, a few thundering heartbeats later, before he pulled off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Semi slouched back against the pillows, boneless. He cracked his eyes open and the two of them studied one other. They shared the same sheen of sweat and the same well-mussed hair and the same sense of warm satisfaction.

Semi’s mouth twitched and suddenly they were both smiling, a chuckle rumbling in Iwaizumi’s chest as he collapsed down beside Semi.

“Was that badass enough for you?” asked Semi, pushing his hair off of his forehead.

Iwaizumi snorted. “I’m pretty sure you only bought that bike to pretend you’re not a huge fucking dork.”

Semi’s grin was a little lopsided. “It was peer pressure. My friend insisted.”

“Yeah?” said Iwaizumi. He dragged his fingers from Semi’s shoulder to his elbow before letting his hand fall away. “What about the tattoos?”

“I can’t blame him for that,” said Semi. He held an arm out in front of him, eyeing the ink on his skin. “These were only for me.”

“They’re nice,” said Iwaizumi. 

“Thanks.” Semi gave him a side glance. “Yours aren’t so bad, either.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, folding his arms just beneath the tattoos spread across his chest. They were on his arms too, but he had restricted himself to quarter sleeves to maintain the convenience of his everyday wardrobe. 

“Any special meaning?” asked Semi, eyeing the dragon coiled on one side of Iwaizumi’s chest.

“My best friend is a fucking idiot who talks me into stupid shit,” said Iwaizumi. “That’s the meaning.”

Semi laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”

They lapsed into a peaceful quiet, lulled into comfort by pleasant company and satisfying orgasms.

Iwaizumi had just started to doze when Semi shuffled off the bed and startled him awake. He sat up straighter to watch Semi retrieve his clothes from the floor and step back into his jeans.

Iwaizumi started to speak, but swallowed the words down before they left his lips. He wanted to tell Semi that he didn’t have to leave. He wanted to tell him that he’d had fun and he didn’t mind if Semi stayed the night.

He wanted to tell him, but he remembered what Semi had said before, about having to ride home afterward.

Semi had already been planning to leave when they were finished, and Iwaizumi shouldn’t expect anything different. It wasn’t as if they’d ended up here because of an emotional connection. This was a one-time thing, a convenient hook-up. Nothing more.

Semi pulled his shirt on, tried to flatten out some of the wrinkles, and said, “I’ll lock the door behind me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” said Iwaizumi. He cleared his throat. He felt there was something else to be said, but wasn’t certain what it was.

Semi combed his fingers through his hair and didn’t quite look at him. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Iwaizumi. He sat up, but Semi was already stepping through the bedroom door. “See you.”

He listened to the thump of boots as Semi pulled his shoes on and the familiar slide of leather as he slipped into his jacket. Then the front door clicked shut, and Iwaizumi was alone.

A minute later he heard the roar of Semi’s bike in the parking lot and he sank back against the pillows with a sigh.

He’d known from the beginning this was a one-time thing. All he knew about Semi was his name and the model of bike he preferred. There were no strings attached, nothing to suggest they would even see each other again.

Iwaizumi knew that, yet he was still somehow disappointed. 

He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, realizing only when he caught the smoky, earthy scent of Semi that it was the one he’d been lying on only a moment before.

Iwaizumi breathed it in, and then sat up and shook his head at his own stupidity. 

They’d had good sex. That was it. Maybe they’d see each other at the overlook again and they could have a round two, or maybe they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter to Iwaizumi either way. He hardly knew Semi Eita. It made no difference to him. 

And yet, their time together was all he could think about until he again drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes, more often than he should, Iwaizumi wondered if he should find new friends.

“Iwa-chan!” 

The nickname was pitched in a high voice, a taunt layered with syrupy sweetness. There was a tug at the back of Iwaizumi’s collar and he slapped the hand away.

“Back the fuck off,” growled Iwaizumi. He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He knew the exact look on Oikawa’s face, too familiar with that smug smirk.

Iwaizumi was at Blue Castle Bar, which was his typical weekend haunt. It had all the makings of a good night; pool tables, rock music, and an unlimited supply of whiskey. 

Iwaizumi threw back his shot and swiveled on his barstool. Oikawa was smirking at him in just the way he’d imagined.

“Iwa-chan’s bad mood is back,” said Oikawa. “Guess last week’s hookup is old news now.” He tilted his head, eyes dropping. “The hickies are gone. Looks like your manners faded with them.”

“Go to hell.”

“Someday,” said Oikawa fondly, hopping onto the stool beside him. “That won’t help you, though. You’ll be right there with me.” He beckoned over the bartender, and Iwaizumi resigned himself to his fate.

He hadn’t told Oikawa about his one-night fling with Semi Eita. He hadn’t spoken a word of it to anyone. Yet somehow Oikawa had just known, and it wasn’t only because of the marks left by Semi’s teeth.

Oikawa always knew everything. He was too perceptive for his own good.

“And bring my friend here another whiskey,” said Oikawa, after he’d given the bartender his order. “He looks like he needs it.”

He was right about that, too.

It had been a long week. 

“Makki and Mattsun want to play a few games,” said Oikawa. “Come be my partner. If you don’t, I’ll have to recruit Yahaba. If I recruit Yahaba, Kyouken won’t have a babysitter. Who knows what he’ll get into.”

“Kyoutani is a grown-ass man,” said Iwaizumi as the bartender slid their drinks across the counter. “He doesn’t need a babysitter.”

Oikawa hummed and sipped at his drink. “If you’d been here last Saturday instead of getting fucked senseless you would feel differently. That fight wasn’t pretty.”

Iwaizumi wanted to snap at him, but there was no point. Once again, it was one of those things Oikawa just knew.

“He does look rough,” said Iwaizumi. He took the whiskey and turned to face the rest of the bar. 

Makki and Mattsun were at the pool table nearest the door, arguing over a pair of pool cues and likely making jokes about whose was bigger. Kindaichi and Kunimi were in the middle of a game a couple of tables over with Watari sitting nearby, chatting with them in that cheery way of his. 

In the furthest corner of the bar, at one of the tables, were Yahaba and Kyoutani. Yahaba sat with his back against the wall and his arms folded. Kyoutani was half-slouched onto the table, scowling. The bruising on his face was beginning to fade, but it was going to last a lot longer than Iwaizumi’s hickies.

“Johzenji,” said Iwaizumi, spitting the word like a curse. “They shouldn’t have been around here in the first place.”

Oikawa hummed in agreement. “Everyone knows this is Seijoh territory.” He tapped his finger against his glass, eyes sharpening. “If I’d known it was happening, I would’ve beaten that piece of shit into the ground.”

Iwaizumi didn’t doubt that at all. If he’d been around, he would’ve wanted to do the same thing.

It was strange to feel that way now, especially since he’d been so resistant when Oikawa had first proposed the idea of turning their group of motorcycle-riding friends into an organization, of sorts. Iwaizumi hadn’t realized at first that Oikawa was persuading them into becoming a gang.

When he’d understood, he’d been in furious objection.

As with all things, however, Oikawa had eventually gotten his way.

Iwaizumi wasn’t mad about it anymore. He was grateful in a strange sort of way, though he would never admit it. The Kyoutani incident of a week before was a rarity. Typically the name Seijoh extended protection, because it was common knowledge that hassling its members was not a good idea. They weren’t famous, but they were known, especially among the other riders in the community. There were several other motorcycle gangs around, but they tended to avoid Seijoh territory, just as Seijoh avoided theirs. It was a matter of mutual respect, an unspoken understanding. 

Johzenji would have to be reminded of that understanding.

“So?” said Oikawa, when he was halfway through his drink and Makki had begun racking up the pool table. 

Iwaizumi threw back the shot and gritted his teeth against the burn. “Let’s kick their asses.”

Oikawa grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He clapped a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and slid to his feet. The ice in his glass rattled as he stepped away, the sound nearly lost in the gritty whine of a guitar feeding through the speakers. The leather jacket settled across Oikawa’s shoulders was familiar, and not only because Iwaizumi had seen it a thousand times before. The one Iwaizumi wore was nearly identical; a different fit, but with the same patch stitched into the leather.

It was the kanji for Seijoh, printed in bold teal, framed by blue ivy leaves.

Iwaizumi had told Oikawa it was stupid.

Yet when Oikawa had given him the jacket he’d put it on anyway, and now he wore it with an unexpected sense of pride.

But he would never have half as much pride as Oikawa Tooru, who strutted across the bar as if it was the foyer of his throne room.

Blue Castle wasn’t there solely for Seijoh’s benefit. It had been there before Oikawa had started up their gang, and would still stand when they’d moved on. There were always other customers, many of them, who weren’t affiliated with Seijoh. 

Still, it had become their home, and Iwaizumi was more comfortable there than anywhere else. It was their sanctuary.

So of course, someone had to tarnish it.

The night started off the same as usual. They had drinks, played pool, and socialized; for the most part. Kyoutani still sulked in the corner, but that wasn’t new, either. 

They were midway through their third game, with Matsukawa and Hanamaki losing by the slimmest of margins. It was Oikawa’s turn, and he bent over the table to line up a shot, the cue steady in his hands. He wiggled his ass with a smirk, earning an eye roll from Hanamaki.

The door to the bar opened. Oikawa flicked his eyes up, briefly, before again focusing on the shot. 

Then the cue slipped from between his fingers and clattered to the floor.

He stood up straight, the motion slow and controlled. His expression was blank, but his eyes were blistering.

Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder and immediately understood why.

Ushijima Wakatoshi stood just inside the door, flanked by a pair of his friends. He looked around the bar with mild interest before heading toward the bar.

“What the fuck,” said Oikawa. His voice pitched low, bathed in acid. “What is _Ushiwaka_ doing in _our bar?_ ”

Iwaizumi didn’t point out that the bar didn’t belong to them. It was a moot point. For the sake of this argument, it could have been considered their bar.

The fierce eagle stitched onto the back of Ushijima’s jacket was a clear indication that he didn’t belong here. Its wings were spread above a plain white patch that read “Shiratorizawa.”

Oikawa shoved past Hanamaki, but Iwaizumi lunged forward and seized Oikawa’s arm, yanking him back.

“Wait,” said Iwaizumi. Oikawa tried to pull away and he tightened his grip. “You can’t just march up to him and say that.”

“You don’t know what I’m planning to say.”

“Not exactly, but I know it’s not good.”

Oikawa’s grin was sharp enough to cut steel. “Iwa-chan is right about that.” He wrenched away from Iwaizumi and stormed across the bar floor.

Iwaizumi hissed a curse and followed, gesturing for Makki and Mattsun to stay put.

When they were only a few steps away, Oikawa said, his voice high and bright, “Ah, Ushiwaka-chan! Fancy meeting you here, of all places.”

Ushijima turned slowly. He seemed unsurprised to see Oikawa, but then again, he always seemed unsurprised by anything. “Oikawa Tooru.”

Oikawa’s wide, fake smile twitched. “So your memory hasn’t failed you. I can’t think of any other reason you would have wandered into this bar. Are you lost, Ushiwaka? Do you need directions back to your side of the prefecture?”

Ushijima’s face didn’t change. “Our preferred bar is undergoing renovations. We will be forced to relocate for a short while. This seemed like a good alternative.”

Heat flashed in Oikawa’s eyes. He started to snap something and Iwaizumi gripped his arm, squeezing a bit too hard. Oikawa glanced at him, took a breath, and said, “It is a good alternative. It’s a good bar. It’s _Seijoh’s_ bar.”

Ushijima’s brows tilted together. He looked past Oikawa, taking in the stares of the other Seijoh members from across the room. “Ah,” he said. “I see. Don’t worry. We will not disturb you.” He turned back toward the bartender, completely disregarding Oikawa’s affront.

“Wait one fucking minute,” said Oikawa, his lip curling into a snarl. He started forward but Iwaizumi stepped in front of him, planting a palm against his chest and knocking him a step back. 

“Stop, Oikawa,” he said. He kept his voice low, aware of the stares that they’d attracted from the bar’s other customers. “This isn’t the place.”

“This is exactly the place,” snapped Oikawa. “This is _our_ place. He can’t waltz in here and-”

“Yes,” said Iwaizumi, “he can.” He spun Oikawa around by the shoulder and gave him a hard push toward the pool tables. “This is a public bar. We can’t force them to leave.”

“Watch me.”

Another pair of men entered the bar, and it was apparent from the patches on their jackets that they were part of Shiratorizawa, too.

“Maybe ten years ago,” growled Iwaizumi, giving him another shove, “but we’re too old for barfights now. Move.”

Oikawa turned to glare at him, and for a fleeting second, Iwaizumi expected a fist to be thrown at him for daring to stand in the way. Oikawa’s jaw clenched and he turned on his heel to storm off toward Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who’d migrated a few steps in their direction, likely ready to come to their defense. Kyoutani had finally strayed from his isolated corner and was creeping closer, bruised eyes fixed on the intruders.

“What’s the deal, boss?” asked Hanamaki when they drew close. “Time to throw down?”

“No,” said Iwaizumi, though the question had clearly been meant for Oikawa. “Nothing’s happening. Just pretend they’re not here.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” said Matsukawa mildly. He raised a brow in the direction of the bar. “They’re rather noticeable.”

“We’re going to wait until they get settled,” said Oikawa through his teeth, “and then we’re going to go out in the parking lot and cut their tires.”

“No, we’re not,” said Iwaizumi.

“That’s the least you can let me do,” hissed Oikawa, “if I can’t even kick them out of my own bar.”

“This isn’t your bar,” said Iwaizumi. “You can’t control who comes here. He said their usual hangout is getting renovations. They won’t be around for long. Besides, Ushijima minds his own business. He’s not going to bother you.”

“His existence bothers me,” said Oikawa, sliding a glare over Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Kyoutani scuffed closer. “I’ll cut their tires,” he said, sharp eyes fixed on the intruders. “I’ll do more than that.”

Iwaizumi clamped a hand on the back of Kyoutani’s neck and squeezed, a clear warning. “No. You won’t.”

“How many of those assholes are here?” said Hanamaki, tilting his head as another pair stepped through the front door. “They don’t outnumber us, right?”

Iwaizumi looked back at the new arrivals, adding them onto his mental tally. He turned back to say something, faltered, and quickly whipped his head back again.

One of them was staring directly at him, and he looked just as horrified as Iwaizumi felt. His companion, tall and red-haired and wild, nudged him, and the man tore his eyes away to move toward the bar. On the back of his jacket was the same proud eagle that Ushijima wore.

That was Semi Eita, wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket.

Semi Eita was part of Shiratorizawa.

Iwaizumi felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He tuned back into his friends’ conversation just in time to hear Oikawa mutter something about walking to the gas station across the street for fuel to set Ushijima’s motorcycle on fire.

Iwaizumi didn’t have time to think about Semi right now. Oikawa’s stupidity was his current priority.

He seized the front of Oikawa’s jacket and yanked him a step closer, snarling into his face. “You’re a fucking adult, Shittykawa. Act like one.”

“They don’t belong here,” said Oikawa, unyielding. “You know they don’t. This is our territory.”

“So is this what you wanted, when you decided to make us a gang?” snapped Iwaizumi. “I thought it was just to keep us close. Looks like all you wanted was an easy way to hate other people for no reason.”

“That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what this is.” Iwaizumi shook him once before letting his grip fall away. “You’re mad because they belong to a different gang. I know you don’t like Ushijima, but it’s not because of Shiratorizawa. It’s because you just don’t like him. Don’t make excuses for being an ass.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed into something lethal. “You expect me to just stand by and let Ushiwaka invade our territory?” 

“Yes,” growled Iwaizumi, “because that’s the only option. If you want to make him leave by force, then go ahead. You know I’ll always have your back in a fight, but you’ll get us all thrown in jail together. If that’s what you want then let's go. I’m right fucking behind you.” He stepped to the side, clearing Oikawa’s path, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Oikawa scowled at him, threw a scalding look toward Ushijima, and set his jaw as he turned away. “Fine, but if he even looks at me the wrong way I’ll fucking destroy him. Let’s play another game. Mattsun, you’re on my team. Iwa-chan is a dick and Makki is terrible at pool.”

Hanamaki followed along after him, whining in protest. Matsukawa was a step behind. Kyoutani lingered, still eyeing the intruders, until Iwaizumi bumped a fist against his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Iwaizumi, keeping his voice low. “If it was Johzenji it would be different. We’ll get our chance with them. This one isn’t your fight.”

Kyoutani huffed, but turned away to sulk back to his corner.

Iwaizumi watched him go, to make sure he didn’t change his mind, and chanced a look back toward the cluster of Shiratorizawa. They weren’t paying much attention to Seijoh. Ushijima had said his group wouldn’t bother them, and if nothing else, he was a man of his word. They seemed oblivious to Seijoh’s existence, except for one.

Semi watched Iwaizumi from across the room, his eyes sharp but his face unreadable. He’d tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and his tattoos were visible beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

Iwaizumi remembered the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms, the taste of his mouth.

He turned away and returned to Oikawa, who was caught somewhere between fuming and pouting.

True to his word, Ushijima and his gang didn’t bother them. They stuck to their side of the bar, crowded around the pair of tables they’d claimed, and didn’t so much as speak to any of the Seijoh members. The redheaded one threw a leer at them occasionally, but he was easy enough to ignore.

The occasional glance from Semi Eita was harder to shrug off.

For the first hour, Iwaizumi worried Semi would tell someone about their hook-up. He feared it would be whispered across the bar until word of it looped back around to Oikawa. That was one conversation he did not want to have.

The more he thought about it, the more he decided it wasn’t a feasible possibility. Shiratorizawa was just as prejudiced against Seijoh as Seijoh was against them. Semi was probably caught up in the same struggle, hoping Iwaizumi wouldn’t be the one to mention the one-night affair.

Iwaizumi planned to take the secret to his grave, and when the night wore on and no one seemed to know about the incident, he supposed Semi intended to do the same. At about ten-thirty, Semi rose from his table, slid a look toward Iwaizumi, and stepped into the back of the club, toward the bathrooms.

Iwaizumi should have stayed where he was. He and Hanamaki had finally won a game together, much to Oikawa’s dismay. He was reacting a touch more dramatically than usual, likely from the residual bad mood of having Ushijima anywhere within a five-kilometer radius. Iwaizumi should have calmed him down and started a new game.

Instead, he pressed his pool cue into Kindaichi’s hand and said, “Bathroom. Fill in for me.”

Kindaichi murmured an agreement as Iwaizumi broke away from the group and skirted around the tables, ignoring the redhead’s leer as he passed by.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he stepped into the bathroom. It certainly wasn’t Semi leaning against the wall with his arms folded, waiting. His brows were furrowed into a scowl and his mouth was tucked to one side as he studied Iwaizumi, who kept a few paces of distance between them.

“You didn’t tell me you were in Seijoh,” said Semi gruffly.

Iwaizumi glanced at the stalls. All of the doors were halfway open; they were alone.

“You didn’t tell me you were in Shiratorizawa, either,” said Iwaizumi. 

Semi shrugged. “It didn’t seem important.”

“Then why would you expect me to say something about it?”

Semi huffed. “Fair enough.” He eyed Iwaizumi’s jacket. “You weren’t wearing that when we met, though.”

“You weren’t wearing yours, either.”

“I don’t wear it unless I’m with the rest of the gang.”

“Neither do I.”

Semi’s glare slid to the side. “This is a pointless argument, isn’t it?”

Iwaizumi almost laughed. This situation would have been hilarious if it had happened to anyone other than himself. As it were, his humor was borderline desperation. “Yeah, it really is.”

One side of Semi’s mouth curved into a wry half-grin. It reminded Iwaizumi of the way Semi had smiled when they’d met, and when they’d been at Iwaizumi’s apartment. 

He may have been in Shiratorizawa, but Iwaizumi still didn’t think Semi was all that bad.

His shoulders relaxed as he scuffed closer and leaned against the wall beside Semi. Semi tensed, maybe expecting some sort of aggression, but Iwaizumi simply reached into his pocket for a cigarette. 

He offered one to Semi, who accepted it with a bit of hesitation. Iwaizumi lit his, and held the lighter out so Semi could do the same.

Semi exhaled a puff of smoke and said, “I thought this bar was non-smoking.”

“It is,” said Iwaizumi. “Do you see anyone around to complain about it?”

Semi raised a brow at the vacant bathroom and took another drag of his cigarette. “Guess not.”

“Shiratorizawa,” mumbled Iwaizumi. He reached over to tap some ash into the sink. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

Semi smiled a little. “We fucked. If I have bad taste, what does that say about you?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Maybe your taste in men is alright,” he conceded. “You could find some better friends, though.”

“I doubt it,” said Semi with a shrug. “They’re annoying sometimes, but they’re good guys. They’re better than the freaks you hang out with.”

If he’d been serious, Iwaizumi would have been offended. But the curl of Semi’s mouth suggested he was joking, and Iwaizumi calmly exhaled another smoky breath. “That’s what we get for letting Oikawa be in charge. He’s king of the freaks.”

Semi laughed, low and deep. It made Iwaizumi feel as warm as the smoldering tip of his cigarette. 

“Ushijima talks about Oikawa every now and then,” said Semi. He leaned across Iwaizumi to tap away some ashes, his arm pressing into Iwaizumi’s chest. “He says they went to rival schools or something. He actually likes Oikawa, for whatever reason. He’s confused that Oikawa seems to hate him.” He straightened and leaned against the wall again, smirking. “None of us have the heart to tell him that he comes off as a real dick sometimes. We know him well enough to see past it. Other people don’t, and Oikawa’s never going to take the time to have an actual conversation with him.”

Iwaizumi had always assumed Ushijima was a jerk, both because of his mannerisms and Oikawa’s eternal resentment. He’d never considered the idea that Ushijima was anything more than an expressionless block of muscle.

Semi sighed. “I guess the same is true for Oikawa though, huh? He seems like a complete ass, but if you’re friends with him, there must be something good about him.”

Iwaizumi thought of his childhood, growing up alongside Oikawa. They’d been inseparable as kids, and that hadn’t faded in the early years of adulthood. Even now they spoke daily, whether in person or by phone. Oikawa had always been an important part of his life, and Iwaizumi cared a great deal for him. 

Instead of saying anything like that, he settled with, “Not really. He’s mostly just an ass.”

Semi smiled, but it was soft, as if he could see through Iwaizumi’s harsh words.

Iwaizumi really liked that smile.

He tapped his cigarette out in the sink. “So are you going to mention anything about… you know.”

“No. I’d never hear the end of it.” Semi paused, then added, “Not that I’m embarrassed or anything. It’s just the Seijoh thing, you know? It’s not you.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” said Iwaizumi. “Same for me. Oikawa would flip his shit.”

“We won’t tell, then,” said Semi. He reached across Iwaizumi again to flip his cigarette into the sink. This time, instead of pulling back, he leaned closer. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to forget about it, though.” 

Heat crackled in Iwaizumi’s gut. He swallowed and said, “Yeah, me neither.”

Semi looked at him with a stare of sharp steel. Iwaizumi remembered how those eyes looked glazed over with pleasure. He remembered the way Semi’s skin felt against his, and the way he’d moaned when he came.

Shiratorizawa or not, Iwaizumi couldn’t deny his attraction for Semi, and it seemed Semi felt the same. He slipped a hand inside Iwaizumi’s jacket, spreading his fingers against a solid chest. 

“I’d hoped to run into you again,” said Semi, his voice low. “If only it had been under different circumstances.”

“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi. Semi’s hand traveled lower, along the ridges of his stomach. “I’ve been up to the overlook a couple times since then. I was looking for you.” He hadn’t planned to admit that, but the words spilled between them without his consent.

Semi stepped closer, his fingers snagging on the waistband of Iwaizumi’s jeans and his breath hot against his lips. “Too bad we can’t see each other anymore.”

“Yeah,” agreed Iwaizumi vaguely. He glanced down at Semi’s mouth. “Too bad.”

The bathroom door swung open and Semi stumbled away from him just as Hanamaki appeared in the doorway. He eyed the pair of them, impassive, and said, “What are you doing?”

Iwaizumi glanced at Semi. They certainly looked guilty, but he didn’t know if it was apparent what sort of guilt that was. “We were, uh… fighting,” said Iwaizumi, taking a step back. “Sort of.”

Hanamaki looked unimpressed by that weak excuse, but he didn’t press, which meant he was preoccupied with something more important. “Okay, well wrap up whatever the hell you’re doing. Your boy is about to get his teeth knocked in.”

Iwaizumi knew who he was talking about. Of course he knew.

“Fuck,” he said. He gave Semi one last look before stomping across the floor and pushing past Hanamaki. He was back in the main room of the bar in six long strides, and regretted that he’d left at all.

Oikawa was wearing his dangerous smile, the one that was sharp enough to slice through flesh. He’d left the sanctity of the pool tables and was leaning a little too far into the redhead’s space. He was grinning too, though his smile was a little less sharp and a little more unhinged.

Kyoutani was three steps behind Oikawa, hands balled into fists, waiting.

That wasn’t good, either.

“What was that?” said Oikawa, the words sweetly toxic. “I must have misheard you, Ten-chan. There’s no way you would be stupid enough to say what I think you said.”

The redhead leered back, unwavering.

As he approached, Iwaizumi noticed the corner of a switchblade poking out of his pocket.

He walked faster.

“I think you heard me just fine,” said the redhead, tilting his head at a strange angle. He was taller than Oikawa, but his posture was hunched. “What, are you gonna fight me? I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Oikawa’s jaw twitched. Iwaizumi knew he was grinding his teeth, which meant his temper was about to pitch into violence.

Iwaizumi lunged forward and knocked Oikawa a step back, putting himself between the two of them. If the redhead was taller than Oikawa, he was certainly taller than Iwaizumi. Regardless, Iwaizumi scowled up at him and said, “Back the fuck off.”

He wasn’t intimidated by Iwaizumi’s sudden appearance. He seemed delighted. 

“The Grand King’s bodyguard,” said the redhead, his grin stretching even wider, “swooping in to save the day. If this was a game of chess, would you be his queen or his knight?”

“I said back off.” The words dragged through Iwaizumi’s teeth. He glanced to the side, where Shiratorizawa had been sitting. Some of them were still there, and one of them stood to gravitate toward the altercation. Ushijima was nowhere in sight.

That was the only reason this was happening. Ushijima wouldn’t have allowed it, not after he’d promised there would be no problems.

“Did your boss leave you here by yourself?” said Iwaizumi. He reached back to make sure Oikawa was still behind him. “Looks like you need a shorter leash.”

“Don’t you worry about my leash, _Iwa-chan_.” The redhead said the name with high-pitched mimicry, and Iwaizumi knew he must have heard it from Oikawa. “The only thing you should worry about is yourself.” 

His fingers twitched, the ones closest to the switchblade. Iwaizumi pulled his fist back, prepared to knock him out before things could escalate. Behind him, Oikawa hissed something to Kyoutani under his breath, and Iwaizumi felt him move closer.

The moment was balanced on a knife’s edge of tension, and even the smallest hostile gesture would have sent them into a full-out brawl. 

Fortunately, Semi chose that moment to intervene. 

He shoved Tendou back much less gently than Iwaizumi had pushed Oikawa, and the muted anger that burned in his eyes was scalding. 

“What the fuck, Tendou?” snapped Semi. He slammed a forearm against his friend’s chest and knocked him back further. “Ushijima said to leave them alone.”

“Don’t jump to such rude conclusions about me, Semi-Semi,” said the redhead with faux innocence. “They started it.”

Semi looked over his shoulder, surveying the cluster of Seijoh members. He lingered on Iwaizumi before turning to push Tendou toward the door. “Move. We’re leaving.”

“C’mon, Semi-Semi. I was only-”

“Shut up.”

Tendou complained all the way to the door, though his mad grin was still in place. He gave them a parting wave just before Semi shoved him outside.

The remaining members of Shiratorizawa shared a look and slowly got up to follow them. 

“That’s right,” mumbled Oikawa. “They’d better fucking run.”

Iwaizumi spun to face him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“That creepy bastard started it, Iwa-chan. You should’ve heard what he said about us.”

“I don’t care what he said. Did you not hear me earlier? If we get in a fight here we’ll get arrested. We both know you wouldn’t make it in jail, Shittykawa.”

“Because of my dashing good looks?” said Oikawa. It was meant as a joke, but his smoldering anger just made his voice bitter. 

“Shut the fuck up,” said Iwaizumi. He glanced around the bar. The other patrons had stopped to watch the confrontation, and most of them were still staring. Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a nudge between his shoulderblades and said, “Move.”

Surprisingly, Oikawa went without argument. He stalked over to their pool table and slouched into one of the chairs against the wall, arms folded over his chest. Kyoutani shuffled along behind them, still watching the door. 

“You were about to hit him, weren’t you?” said Iwaizumi. “If I hadn’t stepped in you would have.”

“Yes,” said Oikawa without shame. “I would have.”

“Oikawa-”

“You almost did the same, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, his voice as sharp as his eyes. “Don’t act like you’re above it. I saw you.”

“I was trying to protect you, Shittykawa.”

“And I was trying to protect Seijoh,” said Oikawa. “I’m not going to sit back and let anyone talk shit about us.”

“Your fucking pride almost got you stabbed.”

“Ten-chan wouldn’t have stabbed me,” said Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi strongly disagreed. Instead of continuing the argument, he slid a glare toward Kyoutani and said, “Where’s Yahaba?”

Kyoutani didn’t look away from the door. He appeared almost eager, as if he wanted Shiratorizawa to storm back in and demand a fight. “Outside. Smokin’ with Kunimi.”

Outside, with a group of agitated Shiratorizawa members.

“Fuck,” said Iwaizumi. He started toward the door, realized Kyoutani was on his heels, and barked a harsh, “Don’t you fucking dare leave this bar.”

Kyoutani stuttered to a stop. He scowled but didn’t disobey.

Iwaizumi slammed the door open and stomped outside, the surge of adrenaline in his blood making his fingers shake. 

Yahaba and Kunimi were right where Iwaizumi expected, standing near the back corner of the building. The cluster of motorcycles parked nearby was swarming with Shiratorizawa.

Iwaizumi hustled over to them, but his haste was unnecessary. The departing gang gave them little attention as they pulled on their helmets and mounted their bikes. Ushijima was among them, and Iwaizumi wondered if he’d stepped outside for a cigarette, too. 

“What’s wrong?” said Yahaba, immediately picking up on Iwaizumi’s unease. 

“That creepy ass redhead,” said Iwaizumi.

It was objectively vague, but Yahaba seemed to know exactly who he meant. “Did something happen?”

“Almost, but no.”

“Was it Kyoutani’s fault?”

Kunimi huffed an amused breath, a cigarette pressed between his lips. 

“Not this time,” said Iwaizumi.

Yahaba seemed relieved. The growl of a bike engine rumbled in the cool night air and it was quickly joined by a roaring din of its brothers. Iwaizumi watched the motorcycles as Shiratorizawa peeled out of the parking lot. His eyes stuck on the silver one until it was out of sight.

“I don’t hate them like Oikawa does,” said Yahaba, “but I don’t like them, either.”

“Most of them are fine,” said Kunimi, talking around his cigarette. “The redheaded one isn’t.”

“Maybe we should go somewhere else while they’re hanging around,” said Yahaba. “When their bar is open again they’ll leave and everything will go back to normal.”

“You know Oikawa won’t agree to that,” said Iwaizumi. 

Yahaba sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m just afraid something will happen.”

Kunimi passively nodded.

“Nothing will happen,” said Iwaizumi, though he didn’t quite believe himself. “Everything is fine. Besides, maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t come back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Shiratorizawa came back.

They were there all night on Saturday, and again on Sunday. When they didn’t show up on Monday, Oikawa declared Ushijima must have been scared away.

The following Friday night they reappeared, and Oikawa was outraged.

“I can’t believe they’re here again,” he said for the twentieth time, glaring across the bar. “Who does Ushiwaka think he is?”

“He’s thinks he’s a man who can go to any public bar he wants, including this one,” said Iwaizumi, tipping back a sip of whiskey. “Turns out he’s right.”

“Iwa-chan, you are not taking this seriously.”

“I’m seriously going to hit you if you don’t shut up.”

Oikawa huffed and swiveled to complain to Hanamaki instead.

The entire Shiratorizawa gang was present. This time they were the ones grouped around the pool tables, broken into several clusters to play separate games. Iwaizumi was at a table in the opposite corner with the rest of Seijoh, trying to enjoy his drink despite Oikawa’s incessant chatter.

They’d been friends since childhood. After all those years of listening to him complain, Iwaizumi could typically tune him out.

That night was an exception. Oikawa’s voice spiked into his skull like a power drill, spinning deeper and deeper with each passing second.

When Iwaizumi felt himself on the verge of snapping, he slammed his empty glass on the table and stood up. “I need a cigarette before I kill someone. And by someone, I mean Oikawa.”

“You would never,” said Oikawa, unconcerned. “You love me.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Yahaba. “You shouldn’t go out by yourself.”

Iwaizumi waved him off before he could rise more than halfway out of his seat. “Don’t worry about it. Ushijima has kept his boys on a leash since Oikawa started a fight with the redhead.”

“I did not start that fight!” said Oikawa, too loudly. “I was provoked!”

“You’re a grown ass man, Oikawa,” grumbled Iwaizumi as he stepped away from the table. “Act like it.”

Oikawa said something back, the reply scathing and dipped in sarcasm, but Iwaizumi didn’t hear. He was too focused on the opposite side of the bar, where eyes of sharp steel had locked onto him the instant he’d stood.

Iwaizumi glanced at him only briefly before slipping outside. He popped up the collar of his jacket against the chill in the air, dipping into his pocket for a cigarette. He moved to the corner of the building, boots scuffing against the pavement, and leaned against the brick wall to smoke. His first puff was whisked away on the breeze, floating toward the front door of the bar, where Semi Eita emerged into the halo of the streetlamp. He glanced around the parking lot, searching, before catching sight of Iwaizumi.

He hesitated, suspended on the cusp of motion like a bird about to take flight.

Iwaizumi inclined his head, just slightly, and Semi’s indecision seemed to melt away. He shuffled closer, hands tucked in his pockets, and leaned against the wall beside Iwaizumi. He left a comfortable distance between them, one that Iwaizumi had an urge to close, despite his better judgment.

“Hey,” said Semi. He spoke quietly, as if afraid someone inside the bar would overhear.

Iwaizumi didn’t respond. He simply passed over his cigarette and watched as Semi pressed it between his lips.

The silence between them was comfortable. The night air was cool on the tips of Iwaizumi’s ears, and his fingers were cold when he took back the cigarette. 

A few minutes drizzled by quietly. Iwaizumi tapped out a flutter of ashes and Semi cleared his throat.

“Sorry about last week,” said Semi. He stared off across the parking lot, arms folded. “Tendou likes to piss people off. He’s been doing it to me for years.”

“Don’t worry about it. If Oikawa had a better handle on his temper it wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“I would’ve been mad too, if I was him,” said Semi. He shifted, leather scratching against the bricks. “Tendou told me what he said. I would’ve wanted to hit him, too.”

Iwaizumi said nothing. Oikawa had told him after the scuffle about the taunts Tendou had purred in his direction. He’d teased that Oikawa was just a poser playing a part, that the other members of Seijoh were only humoring him, that they had no real respect. He’d said Oikawa liked to think of himself as a king, a step above everyone else, but he was only dust beneath Shiratorizawa’s boots.

Looking back, Iwaizumi almost wished he hadn’t stopped Oikawa. Tendou may have been intimidating, and he’d had a knife, but Iwaizumi had no doubts about Oikawa’s ability to defend himself. He’d seen Oikawa participate in exactly three physical fights. Iwaizumi’s primary role during those occasions had been holding Oikawa back so he didn’t kill anyone.

Oikawa spoke highly of himself, but he’d always been able to back up that annoyingly self-satisfied attitude. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but respect him for that, at least a little.

He would never admit that to him, though.

“Your friend hasn’t been trying to pick any more fights,” said Iwaizumi. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “Did he have a change of heart?”

Semi snorted. “He doesn’t have a heart. When Ushijima found out what happened he had a talk with him. He’s the only person Tendou will listen to. I can bitch at him all day long and he’ll ignore everything I say.”

“I know the feeling.”

Semi smiled a little, a bare quirk of his lips. “Do you?”

“You’ve met Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s a miracle I haven’t killed him yet.”

“I’ll kill him for you,” said Semi, “and you can kill Tendou for me. They’d never suspect us.”

Iwaizumi grinned; he couldn’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

They lapsed into silence again. Iwaizumi wanted another cigarette, but there were only two left in his pack. He needed to make them last until he got home.

Semi sighed and ran a hand through his hair, setting it to mild disarray. “We’ll probably be leaving soon. Your friends will be happy.”

“Probably,” agreed Iwaizumi, “but I won’t be.”

He hadn’t planned to say that. It had slipped out of his mouth without permission.

Semi blinked at him, the slight flush on his face barely visible in the low light of the distant street lamp, and Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to regret the blurted words.

What they’d done together was bad enough. It was excusable only because they hadn’t known of each other’s affiliations. Now they were all too aware, and repeating past behaviors would be a flagrant mistake.

Consorting with a rival gang – especially one as loathed as Shiratorizawa – was not something Iwaizumi should do.

He knew that, and still he found himself stepping into Semi’s space, pinning him against the brick wall. Their noses bumped together, cold from the night air, but the breath on Iwaizumi’s lips was warm. 

He stayed there on the precipice, waiting for Semi to push him away. It was the reasonable thing to do. It was ridiculous to think he would do anything else. This was a bad idea and both of them knew it.

Semi gripped the front of Iwaizumi’s jacket and pulled him close, the chill of his lips clashing with the heat of his breath. Semi kissed him like he was desperate, like he wanted this as much as Iwaizumi did.

Iwaizumi gripped Semi’s waist and pressed into him, their hips and thighs flush together, leather squeaking against leather as he leaned close. Semi nipped at his lip and sank a hand into Iwaizumi’s hair, pulling lightly, dragging a low, needy sound from Iwaizumi’s mouth.

He pulled back, just far enough to catch his breath. Semi opened his eyes slowly. They smoldered like embers.

“Come back to my place,” said Iwaizumi, the request low and rough.

Semi smirked. “What about Seijoh?”

“Fuck them,” said Iwaizumi. “They don’t have to know.”

Semi considered him. His hand fell away from Iwaizumi’s hair, fingers curling instead around the back of his neck. “No.”

Iwaizumi tried to quell his disappointment. “Okay.” He stepped back, but Semi tightened his grip and kept him there.

“My place is closer,” said Semi. He dragged his lips along Iwaizumi’s jaw. “I’ll go tell the guys I’m leaving and you can follow me over.”

Heat thrummed in Iwaizumi’s veins. “Yeah, let’s… yeah.”

Semi kissed him one more time, deeply. When he broke away to return to the bar, flattening down his hair and wiping at his mouth, Iwaizumi immediately missed him.

Semi paused just before stepping through the door, slid a scorching glance at Iwaizumi, and disappeared inside.

Iwaizumi released a breath and leaned against the brick wall, grateful for the cool air on his face. 

Semi was the best bad idea he’d ever seen.

  
  
  
  
  
Iwaizumi parked his bike beside Semi’s in the lot of a well-maintained apartment complex. Semi’s apartment was on the second floor, and it was a little higher-class than Iwaizumi’s. 

He didn’t have much time to think on that.

Ten minutes after he’d stepped through the door he had two fingers shoved inside Semi, swallowing the moans directly from Semi’s mouth as he worked his way deeper. Semi was on his back, legs spread, one arm curled around Iwaizumi’s waist. Iwaizumi was on his knees beside him, weight on one elbow, mouth dragging from Semi’s lips to his jaw and down to his neck.

Semi made a wordless noise that seemed muffled. He must have been biting his lip. Iwaizumi sucked lightly at his neck, punctuating with a flick of his tongue and a scrape of his teeth that made Semi shiver. He was careful not to leave marks, despite how satisfying it would have been and despite the marks that Semi had left on him the last time they were together. 

He thrust his fingers deeper, spreading them as he pulled out, earning another low, muffled moan.

“Can you take one more?” asked Iwaizumi, murmuring the words into Semi’s throat.

Semi’s cock twitched and he ground himself against Iwaizumi’s fingers. “Fuck yeah.”

Iwaizumi bit at Semi’s collarbone and wedged in another finger, heat squeezing around him. Semi made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a whine.

“Does it hurt?” said Iwaizumi, going still so he could adjust.

“Little bit,” said Semi, breathless, “but I like it.”

Iwaizumi’s cock throbbed and he bit down on his own moan. Semi was too tempting.

He kissed Semi, dipped his tongue between his lips, and worked his fingers in and out. Semi reached down to stroke himself, teasing lightly over his cock as Iwaizumi pushed deep enough to make him jolt.

Semi moaned into his mouth, his teeth catching at Iwaizumi’s lip as he pulled away.

“You can fuck me now,” said Semi, still stroking himself almost absently. He laid back and stared up at Iwaizumi with blown pupils and swollen lips. “I’ve waited too long.”

“We just got here,” said Iwaizumi.

Semi licked his lips. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me since you walked into the bar three hours ago.”

That punched the breath from Iwaizumi’s lungs. 

Semi grinned and spread his legs wider.

Iwaizumi fumbled with a condom, sliding it on and slicking himself up before settling between Semi’s thighs.

Semi threaded his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair and yanked him down for a kiss. “Fuck me hard,” he said, the words muffled by Iwaizumi’s lips.

Heat coiled in Iwaizumi’s gut. He pushed in to Semi with one quick snap of his hips. 

Semi threw his head back, grip tightening in Iwaizumi’s hair so hard that it was painful. He clenched around Iwaizumi, hot and tight. “Fuck,” he said, more gasp than voice. He wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and forced him closer. 

Iwaizumi pressed his lips against Semi’s shoulder, giving him time. Semi panted in his ear and rutted up against him. 

“Okay,” said Semi. He nipped at Iwaizumi’s ear. “I’m good.”

“You sure? I don’t-”

“Fuck me,” murmured Semi, one hand drifting down to squeeze Iwaizumi’s ass. “Please fuck me.”

Iwaizumi’s skin caught fire. He pressed his forehead against Semi’s shoulder, aware that Semi could likely feel the twitch of Iwaizumi’s cock deep inside him. He took a breath, braced himself on his palms, and pulled his hips back. He slammed into Semi, and their moans rose in harmony.

Semi’s legs were tight around him as Iwaizumi thrust into him, the pace fast enough to make both of them pant for breath. Semi buried one hand in his own hair, eyes fluttering closed, neck long and pale as he threw his head back. His other hand was clamped around Iwaizumi’s bicep, as if he was using it to ground himself. His lashes were dark over flushed cheekbones and his lips were parted just enough to show a flash of teeth.

Iwaizumi could have watched him forever.

His next thrust was deeper, and Semi choked back a cry.

“Fuck,” said Semi. “I need… you have to… fuck.” He gave up on the stuttered explanation and shoved Iwaizumi to the side. He was pinned flat on his back with Semi kneeling over him, his cock free for only a fleeting second before Semi sank onto it.

They both gasped. Semi sat back, taking more, until he’d settled all the way down onto Iwaizumi’s hips. Iwaizumi’s cock pulsed and Semi moaned.

Iwaizumi spread his hands on Semi’s thighs, taking in the lean lines of his torso and the strength of his broad shoulders. The ink on his arms was stark against pale skin, but what caught Iwaizumi’s attention the most, and what he couldn’t look away from, was the intensity of his eyes.

Semi breathed out, and his eyes went half-lidded, but they were no less piercing. He peeled Iwaizumi’s hands away and leaned forward to pin them over Iwaizumi’s head, the grip around his wrists nearly bruising.

Semi shifted forward and rolled back on Iwaizumi’s cock, not pausing before he did it again, and again. The force of it rocked the entire bed. Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and tried to free his hands, but Semi only squeezed his wrists more tightly.

“What’s wrong?” murmured Semi, dipping his head down to pant into Iwaizumi’s ear. “Not enjoying yourself?”

“I didn’t know you have control issues.”

Semi huffed a laugh. “I don’t. If you want me to stop just say so.”

Iwaizumi kept his mouth shut, and Semi pushed himself back hard enough to make both of them moan.

“Fuck, your cock feels good,” said Semi. 

Iwaizumi clenched his teeth more tightly, his dick throbbing.

Semi must have felt it. He smirked down at him, messy hair falling into one eye. “You like when I talk like that?”

“I’d like for you to shut up and keep riding me,” said Iwaizumi, pushing the words through his teeth.

“You sure?” asked Semi. He sank back fully onto Iwaizumi’s cock, leaning down to lick at his ear before whispering into it. “You don’t want to hear about how full I am, with your cock inside me? Or how you stretch me open so wide that it hurts?”

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Semi chuckled. Iwaizumi tested his grip again, attempting to pull his hands free, but Semi didn’t give.

Iwaizumi could have probably broken his grip, if he’d really tried. 

He didn’t really try.

Semi picked up the pace again, rolling his hips back and bouncing on Iwaizumi’s cock. The friction was fantastic, and Iwaizumi felt himself thrown closer to orgasm every time Semi drove himself down.

“Fuck, Semi,” he gasped, his hands curling into fists where they were pinned against the bed.

Semi interpreted that as encouragement. He pushed back sharply, moaning from the angle. Iwaizumi shifted, dug his heels into the mattress, and thrust up into him. Semi was thrown a little off-balance, and Iwaizumi took the opportunity to shove him to the side. He pushed Semi onto his back, stretched over him, and rammed his cock in.

Semi’s back arched as he cried out, fingers scrabbling at Iwaizumi’s shoulders. His nails dug in as Iwaizumi pounded into him, sweat beading at his temples and along the slope of his back. Semi peeled one hand away from Iwaizumi’s back and used it to fist his own cock, stroking at a frenzied pace, his breath hitching as he peaked. Iwaizumi gave a hard, solid thrust, and Semi voiced a choked “ _Iwa_ ” as he came, spraying over his hand and onto his stomach. Iwaizumi rocked into him more gently as he finished, relishing the sensation of Semi clenching around him. When Semi collapsed back against the bed, Iwaizumi pulled out and sat back on his heels.

Semi took a long breath, his chest rising and falling, before pushing himself up on his elbows and looking at Iwaizumi with slightly glazed eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” he said, his voice a touch raspy.

“Last time you said you don’t like being fucked after you just came,” said Iwaizumi, peeling off his condom.

Semi’s brows pulled together. “You actually remember that?”

“Well yeah, it was only two weeks ago.”

Semi frowned at him, thoughtfully. He tugged at Iwaizumi’s wrist and laid back again. “Come here. Facefuck me.”

“I- wait, what?”

“You heard me.” Semi licked his lips, eyes darting down to Iwaizumi’s rock-hard cock. 

“But you… are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t then I wouldn’t have said it,” said Semi. He trailed a finger along the side of Iwaizumi’s dick and it twitched in response. “You don’t want to?”

Iwaizumi wanted to. He hadn’t known until Semi had said it, but he thought maybe he’d never wanted anything more in his life.

“Really,” said Semi, a bit more softly. “It’s fine. I like it.”

Iwaizumi took a breath, stroked his dick a couple of times, and shuffled forward. He braced his knees on either side of Semi’s head, hips tilted down, the head of his cock brushing at Semi’s lips. Semi lapped at the tip and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. He opened his mouth in invitation and squeezed Iwaizumi’s thighs, urging him closer.

Iwaizumi gripped the sheets and slipped his cock past Semi’s lips, pressing slowly into the heat of his mouth. Semi laved at him, his tongue working at every centimeter of Iwaizumi’s cock that it could reach.

Semi wouldn’t even have to deep throat him. Iwaizumi could come just like this.

Semi grabbed double handfuls of Iwaizumi’s ass and coaxed him down, urging his cock deeper, stopping only when it brushed the back of his throat. He looked up at Iwaizumi and pulled him a little bit deeper, a silent encouragement.

Iwaizumi thrust into his mouth, shallow and tentative, and Semi gave a low, muffled moan of approval.

“Hit me if you want to stop,” said Iwaizumi.

Semi rolled his eyes and raised his head off the mattress, taking the full length of Iwaizumi’s cock.

Iwaizumi’s hips stuttered forward on impulse, and Semi squeezed Iwaizumi’s ass again as he dropped his head back.

He thrust into Semi’s mouth cautiously, afraid to go too deep despite Semi’s insistence. Every time he pulled back, a tongue flicked at his tip before he plunged in again. It was maddening, and it made him so hard that he ached.

His hands curled into fists in the sheets. “I’m going to come,” he said, the admission low and rough. “Want me to pull out?”

Semi shook his head as best he could with Iwaizumi’s cock tickling his throat. His nails dug into Iwaizumi’s ass and he looked up at him, restless and expectant. His tongue rubbed against the head of Iwaizumi’s cock when he thrust in, and Iwaizumi bit down on a moan as he came down Semi’s throat. 

Semi swallowed, unflinching, and sucked Iwaizumi’s cock clean as he pulled out. He licked his lips and gave a sly little grin.

Iwaizumi sprawled onto his back. His limbs were heavy and he felt like he’d been completely drained. 

The bed shook, and Iwaizumi cracked open an eyelid to discover Semi crawling toward the edge to grab at a box of tissues. He wiped himself off and Iwaizumi took a moment to appreciate the view of his nude body before letting his eye fall closed again.

He felt sleep drifting in, tugging at the edges of his consciousness with soft, fuzzy fingers. He wanted nothing more than to just lay there and drift off.

Instead he pushed himself up, wading through the dregs of his exhaustion. He kicked his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

Before he’d taken a step toward the heap of clothes in the middle of the floor, Semi seized his wrist and yanked him back down.

Iwaizumi plopped onto the bed with a huff of surprise. He raised his brows, but Semi wasn’t looking at him.

“If you want,” said Semi, studying the far wall with unnecessary interest, “you can stay the night. It’s kind of late.”

Iwaizumi’s heart lurched. “Umm… are you sure?”

Semi rolled his eyes, but there was a low flush on his cheeks. “You have to stop second-guessing me. I don’t say things I don’t mean, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi smiled. It was soft and warm, like the feeling in his chest.

It was a bad idea to stay. He knew that, and Semi must have known, too. They weren’t supposed to be together and Iwaizumi couldn’t let himself get too attached. 

Even if he had a feeling it was too late to prevent that.

“Okay,” he said. He scratched at the back of his hair. “I’ll stay.”

He wasn’t looking at Semi, but he heard the smile in his voice. “Good. You can use the shower if you want, but I’m just going to sleep. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Yeah, me too.”

A few minutes later Iwaizumi found himself curled up in Semi’s bed, the sheets soft against his bare skin. Semi was close; he felt his body heat, just a breath away, but they weren’t touching. He wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. The two of them hardly knew each other. They’d fucked a couple of times. That was it. Iwaizumi shouldn’t have even agreed to stay. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

He wondered if it was too late to create an excuse to leave.

Sheets rustled as Semi moved, the mattress jolting beneath them.

“Hey,” said Semi. “Are we going to lay here in awkward silence all night or can I spoon you or something?”

Iwaizumi snorted. The tension of uncertainty leached from his muscles, leaving him relaxed again. “Yeah, whatever.”

Semi shifted closer and draped an arm over Iwaizumi’s waist. His chest was warm on Iwaizumi’s back and his breath rustled Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi relaxed into him. Earlier the feeling of Semi’s skin against his own had given him a spike of arousal. Now, in soft sheets with soft breath on his neck, he enjoyed it in a different way.

Tentatively, he touched the back of Semi’s hand. Semi pressed closer against him and threaded their fingers together, smiling into Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“’Night, Iwa,” he mumbled.

Iwaizumi smiled too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so peaceful. “’Night, Semi.”

They fell asleep that way, with bare skin and linked hands, and Iwaizumi was content.

  
  
  
  
  
When Iwaizumi woke up the next morning, he didn’t immediately know where he was. The bed was warm and comfortable, but the pillow was a little too soft and it smelled like citrus shampoo. 

He blinked himself awake and pushed himself up on his elbows. Across the room Semi was rifling through a wardrobe, his back to Iwaizumi. He was dressed only in a pair of dark slacks, and Iwaizumi took a moment to appreciate the lean muscles of his bare back. Semi plucked out a plain undershirt and pulled it over his head, and Iwaizumi’s focus shifted to the tattoos painting his arms.

“Getting that many tattoos was bold,” said Iwaizumi, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Semi glanced back at him and rubbed at the tattoos on his right forearm. “I guess.”

“Do you regret them?”

“No.” He chose a button-up from the wardrobe and turned toward the bed as he shrugged it on. The long sleeves covered the ink on his arms. “When I’m dressed for work no one can see them anyway, and that’s all I care about. I don’t give a fuck if some random guy out on the street sees them and thinks I’m a thug.” He combed his fingers through damp hair and buttoned his shirt. “What about you? Regrets?”

Iwaizumi glanced down at the tattoos capping his shoulders. “Nah.”

“What about last night?” asked Semi. “Any regrets about that?”

Iwaizumi thought of the way Semi had looked, flushed and eager. He thought of how it had felt to fall asleep with Semi’s heat pressed against him.

“No,” said Iwaizumi. “None at all.”

Semi’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Where do you work, anyway?” asked Iwaizumi. “It’s Saturday. Shouldn’t you be lounging at home for the weekend?”

“I wish,” said Semi. “There’s a big case going right now and we’re having to pull overtime. I work at a law office.”

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Technically,” said Semi, shrugging as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I’m not the sleazy kind, though, so don’t judge me for it.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind.”

“What about you?” said Semi. “What do you do when you’re not riding bikes and drinking whiskey?”

Iwaizumi grinned, an answer on his tongue, but the blare of Semi’s phone cut him short. Semi rolled his eyes and grabbed it from the end table by his bed. He mouthed a quick _Sorry_ , cradled it between his face and his shoulder, and said, “Hey, Satori.”

Iwaizumi made a face and Semi smiled.

“Getting ready for work,” said Semi, in response to whatever Tendou had said. “What’re you doing up so early? Did you even sleep?”

There was a pause as Tendou replied. Semi repositioned the phone and stepped back to the wardrobe to select a red silk tie. He draped it around his neck and rolled his eyes. “I was tired and I had to get up this morning to work, unlike you.”

Iwaizumi slouched back onto the pillows. Obviously Tendou was chiding him for leaving the bar too early the night before. Iwaizumi would likely have to hear the same lecture from his own friends.

“Of course not,” scoffed Semi. “I came home and went to bed. I didn’t have time to…” he trailed off, and the smile dripped off of his face. His eyes darted to Iwaizumi. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Why would you think…?” He bit his lip and turned away. “You don’t know that. It could’ve belonged to anyone.” There was another pause, and Iwaizumi’s apprehension grew. When Semi spoke again his voice was quiet, resigned. “Satori, you can’t tell Ushijima. You can’t tell _anyone_.” 

Iwaizumi sat up, the sheets pooling about his waist. The air of the bedroom was cool against his chest, but he was too concerned about Semi’s conversation to notice.

“It’s not funny,” said Semi through gritted teeth. “This isn’t a joke. I don’t care if you… fuck, I can’t talk about this right now. I need to get to work. Yeah, he’s… yeah. I’ll call you later. Keep your mouth shut.” 

The call ended and Semi kept his back to Iwaizumi, his shoulders tense. 

“What’s wrong?” said Iwaizumi, the question careful.

Semi didn’t move, and Iwaizumi thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“He knows,” said Semi, still not looking back. “About us. About last night, anyway.”

A pulse of unease made Iwaizumi wince. “How?”

Semi reached up to tug anxiously at his hair. “He came by the apartment after he left the bar. He recognized your bike in the parking lot.”

“How did he know it was mine?”

Semi shrugged, shoulders still tight and tense. “He saw you leave on it one night. He remembered it.”

“Fuck.”

Finally, Semi turned. His brows were folded together, free hand curled into a fist. Iwaizumi expected him to be angry, but he only looked concerned.

“Will he tell anyone?” asked Iwaizumi. 

Semi sat on the edge of the bed with a huff. “I don’t know. He’s shitty with secrets, but if I convince him it’s important, he might keep it to himself. I’ll have to talk to him.”

“What will happen if Ushijima finds out?” 

Semi winced. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. I’ve never really seen him get mad over anything. He’s always so calm that it’s sort of annoying, but… messing around with someone from a different gang – from _Seijoh_ , considering how Oikawa treats us – might be the thing that sets him off.”

Iwaizumi considered that. He knew how furious Oikawa would be if he found out. The fallout from that would be brutal. He feared he would be kicked out of Seijoh immediately, despite his long-standing friendship. He knew Oikawa better than anyone. He would take Iwaizumi’s betrayal personally, and Oikawa Tooru could hold a grudge like no one else.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what sort of friendship Semi had with Ushijima and the rest of Shiratorizawa, but he didn’t want to know what sort of consequences he would face if their affair was leaked.

“I’m sorry,” said Iwaizumi. “This is my fault.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m the one who came onto you last night,” said Iwaizumi. “I invited you to my place. I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have-”

“Shut up, Iwaizumi,” said Semi. “The only reason I was outside at all was because I saw you step out. I was trying to get a minute alone with you because I was hoping _this_ would happen.” He gestured vaguely at the bed. “If you think for a second that you coerced me into anything then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Iwaizumi sighed and collapsed onto his back. “What’re we going to do?”

“I’d like to murder Tendou so he’ll keep his mouth shut,” said Semi drily. “That’s probably not the best idea, so I guess we’ll just have to stop seeing each other and hope for the best. I’ll convince Tendou to keep this a secret.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach sank. He knew that was the best option, but he still didn’t like it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Silence stretched between them. It was uneasy and regretful. 

Semi stood and said, “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Right,” said Iwaizumi. He threw the sheets off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll get dressed and be out of your way.”

“Sorry to kick you out.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Semi started toward the adjoining bathroom but paused in the doorway. “Hey, Iwaizumi?”

“Yeah?”

Semi gripped the doorframe and didn’t look back at him. “I still don’t regret last night.”

Iwaizumi would have never admitted to the swooping sensation in his stomach. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Me either.”

Semi nodded and left the room. The sound of running water filtered through the doorway as Iwaizumi yanked on his jeans. Two minutes later he crept out of the apartment and down the stairs, hoping no one would be around to witness his departure. It was clear from the wrinkled state of his clothing and the mess of his hair that his descent to the parking lot was a walk of shame.

Fortunately no one was in the corridors, and he mounted his motorcycle without incident. Semi’s was parked directly beside it, and he gave it a too-long glance as his bike engine roared to life beneath him. Before he pulled out, he looked up at the window of Semi’s apartment. He could’ve sworn he saw the curtains flicker, but that may have just been his imagination.

He drove out of the lot and lamented that he would never see that apartment again.


	4. Chapter 4

It was easy enough for Iwaizumi to tell himself he was going to stay away from Semi. Objectively speaking, it was the best for both of them. It was a good decision.

It was easy in theory, but when Shiratorizawa showed up at the bar the following Friday night, and then again on Saturday, Iwaizumi’s resolve wavered.

He sat at a table with Oikawa and Yahaba, sipping cheap whiskey and staring at Semi’s ass from across the room. Semi was leaning on the counter, waiting for a drink, and he’d worn jeans that were so tight they seemed to be a second layer of skin.

He wondered if Semi had done it intentionally, just to torture him.

If so, it was working. 

The bartender passed Semi his drink and he turned away, briefly catching Iwaizumi’s eye. He hesitated a second too long before tearing his stare away and returning to his seat beside Tendou. He kept his head down, pointedly ignoring Iwaizumi’s lingering attention.

It seemed he wasn’t struggling with his feelings the way Iwaizumi was.

“Iwa-chan, are you even listening to me?” 

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and took a breath. “Yeah.”

“What was I talking about?” said Oikawa.

“Your shitty coworkers.”

“That’s not even close!”

“Oh,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. “Then no, I wasn’t listening.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Oikawa went off on a tirade, but Iwaizumi easily blocked him out. He had years of experience in the art of ignoring Oikawa Tooru. He should include that on his resume. 

When he paused for breath, Iwaizumi said, “Where’s Kyoutani?”

Yahaba opened his mouth to respond but Oikawa snapped, “That’s literally what we were just talking about!”

“He’s on his way,” said Yahaba. He checked the time and said, “He should’ve been here half an hour ago. I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“Chasing cats probably,” mumbled Oikawa. “Whatever it is that rabid dogs do.”

Yahaba frowned, but there was no time for him to argue.

Ushijima broke away from his group and crossed the floor, stopping only when he was a pace away from their table. “Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s face twisted as if he’d just taken a bite out of a lemon. “Ushiwaka-chan. To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation? I thought you agreed to keep your distance. In case you were confused, anywhere within a full kilometer is too close.”

Ushijima was unaffected by his impertinence. “I would like to thank you,” said Ushijima, “for your hospitality. The renovations on our own bar should be complete within a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks,” repeated Oikawa, his lip curling. “Lovely.”

“You and your friends are more than welcome to visit,” said Ushijima, nodding in Iwaizumi and Yahaba’s direction. “We will accommodate you to the best of our ability.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Oikawa flatly.

Ushijima shrugged. “I only wanted to extend the offer. For now, can I get you a drink?”

Oikawa grimaced. “No. I don’t drink.” He reached for his beer and deliberately took a sip, holding Ushijima’s stare.

Iwaizumi snatched the bottle from Oikawa’s hand and swallowed the last two gulps himself. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and said, “I’m sure Oikawa would appreciate another beer since his is empty. Thanks, Ushijima.”

Oikawa made a low sound of protest, but Ushijima only nodded and paced toward the bar.

“What the hell, Iwa-chan?” hissed Oikawa, his glare nearly sharp enough to shatter the glass bottle in Iwaizumi’s hand. 

“Free beer,” said Iwaizumi.

“I don’t want _anything_ from him, free or not!”

“He’s trying to be nice,” said Iwaizumi. He clunked the bottle back onto the table and pushed his chair back. “They’ll only be here for two more weeks. Suck it up.” He didn’t know if the advice was more for Oikawa or himself. He stood and started toward the back of the bar, where the bathrooms were tucked away in the corner. 

When he stepped through the door, he couldn’t help but remember the encounter with Semi a couple of weeks before. He half-wished Semi would wander inside again, but he knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. If they were alone together, Iwaizumi didn’t trust himself to remain detached.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Semi hadn’t even looked in his direction when he’d left his table.

The bathroom was empty. A minute after he’d entered, Iwaizumi zipped up and stepped over to the sink. The hot water knob had been broken for about three months, so he washed his hands in ice-cold water. He yanked down a towel and the bathroom door swung open.

His breath caught as he sliced his stare up to the mirror, expecting to see Semi. The smudged reflection was a man in a leather jacket, but that was where the similarities ended.

Tendou Satori grinned at Iwaizumi from the doorway, and Iwaizumi’s stomach twisted in dread.

“Well, well,” sang Tendou, swaying closer. “If it isn’t the man after my dear Semi-Semi’s heart.”

The paper towel crumpled in Iwaizumi’s fist. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Tendou’s grin grew wider. “Oh, I think you do.” He stopped only a step away from Iwaizumi, so close that he could smell the alcohol on Tendou’s breath. “Wait, maybe I worded that wrong. Let me try again.” He cleared his throat. “Well, well. If it isn’t the man trying to get into my dear Semi-Semi’s pants.”

Iwaizumi’s fist clenched more tightly. “I said I don’t know what you mean.”

Tendou chuckled under his breath. “Sure you don’t. I suppose you wouldn’t admit to me that you’re trying to take advantage of him.”

Anger flared in Iwaizumi’s blood, bright and sudden. “I’m not trying to take advantage of him.”

“Not now,” agreed Tendou, “since Semi-Semi is scared I’m going to tell someone.” He braced a hand against the sink and leaned close; too close. “I’m letting him think I might snitch about his little affair so he’ll stop seeing you. I would never tell on him, though. Not when he’s that worried about Ushijima finding out.”

“What do you want?” asked Iwaizumi flatly. Heat still burned beneath his skin but he fought it down. Getting into a fight in the bathroom wasn’t a great idea, especially not when Tendou still had a switchblade clipped in the pocket of his jeans. 

“I just thought I’d try to help you out,” said Tendou with saccharine cheer. “Maybe then you’ll leave Semi-Semi alone.”

“I’m not bothering him,” said Iwaizumi. “I haven’t even spoken to him.”

“No,” said Tendou, “but you won’t stop looking at him. Even I’ve noticed that.” He pressed a fingertip beneath Iwaizumi’s chin and tilted his face up a little more, his smile edging toward demented. Iwaizumi slapped his hand away, but Tendou’s grin didn’t waver. “If you got laid, maybe you would back off. How about it, _Iwa-chan?_ Need a hand with that?” Long fingers tugged at Iwaizumi’s belt. “I’m not as pretty as Semi-Semi, but if you close your eyes, it’s all the same.”

It took every ounce of self-control in Iwaizumi’s possession not to hit him. The muscles in his arms were so taut that they burned, begging to be put to use, ready to throw a punch.

Iwaizumi swallowed back the urge and slammed a flat palm into Tendou’s chest instead, knocking him a step back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Tendou’s eyebrows were high. His smile flickered, but returned in full force. “What’s wrong, Iwaizumi? I’m not your type? I can get one of the others for you, if you’d like. Tsutomu will do anything if you ask him nice enough.”

“You’re a sick fucking freak,” snapped Iwaizumi. He shoved past Tendou and stalked toward the door. 

Before he could escape, Tendou said, “I wasn’t kidding when I said you need to leave him alone.”

Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder and found a very different Tendou looking back. His smile was gone. In its place was a complete lack of expression, as if all of his emotions had been sapped away.

It was disorienting, and Iwaizumi realized Tendou had just been putting on a show, trying to get a reaction out of him. 

“Eita is convinced Ushijima will be mad at him,” said Tendou, “and he’s wrong. Wakatoshi won’t care who he’s fucking, but I’m going to let him keep believing it as long as it keeps him away from trash like you.”

Iwaizumi bristled. “Fuck you.”

“I’ve known Oikawa for a while,” said Tendou mildly. “Not as long as you, but long enough to know how he treats people. Seijoh is all the same. You use people as long as you can and throw them away when you’re finished. You won’t do that with Eita. Don’t speak to him. Don’t even look at him. I know you think you’re tough, but I’m not afraid of you, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

He said it with a malice that chilled Iwaizumi to his bones, but he didn’t back down.

“I’m not afraid of you, either,” growled Iwaizumi. “If you’re looking for a fight I’m more than happy to give it to you. If you say one more fucking word about Oikawa that’s exactly what you’ll get. You don’t know him as well as you think. He’s not like that. I’m not like that, either, so fuck off.”

“What are you after, then?”

“What?”

“Why are you fucking with Eita?” asked Tendou. “What do you want from him?”

“I don’t want anything from him,” said Iwaizumi. “I don’t fucking use people.”

“Why, then?” pressed Tendou. 

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” said Iwaizumi, kicking the door open. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

The door slammed between them and Iwaizumi stomped back into the main area of the bar. He was absolutely fuming, and he wanted nothing more than to burn through half a pack of cigarettes.

But Ushijima was sitting at their table, and judging from the look on Oikawa’s face, a lack of immediate intervention would result in injuries on one side or the other.

“Oikawa,” snapped Iwaizumi. “Outside. Now.”

Oikawa glared up at him, fuming from either the close proximity to Ushijima or Iwaizumi’s tone. He blinked, taking in the rage stamped into the lines of Iwaizumi’s scowl, and rose without argument. He grabbed the beer that Ushijima must have bought him and left the table without a word.

Iwaizumi noticed Semi looking at them, and that only made his blood burn more hotly. He flung open the door of the bar with too much force and stormed out. A trio of men were on their way in, but they backed away to give Iwaizumi a wide berth as he stalked to the end of the parking lot. 

He tried to light a cigarette, but his hands were shaking with so much barely contained anger that he couldn’t keep the lighter steady.

“Here,” said Oikawa, plucking it away. He flicked it to life and held it still until the tip of the cigarette caught the flame. He tucked the lighter back into the pocket of Iwaizumi’s jacket. 

Iwaizumi took a smoky breath and closed his eyes, willing his temper to settle. If this had happened a few years before, he would have been pounding Tendou’s head against the bathroom floor just then. He was too furious to be proud of his self-restraint. He thought beating Tendou within an inch of his life would have been more satisfying than abstaining from violence.

Oikawa didn’t ask what was wrong. They’d known each other too long for that. He simply stood by as Iwaizumi puffed his way through three cigarettes, his anger gradually settling.

When Iwaizumi felt he could speak in a level voice, he said, “Do you remember last week when I broke up that fight between you and Tendou?”

Oikawa nodded.

“I should’ve just joined in.”

“It isn’t too late,” said Oikawa wryly. “I’d still like to beat him into pulp. And Ushijima with him.”

“Looked like the two of you were getting along pretty well.”

“He was trying to talk to me like we’re friends or something,” said Oikawa, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but it’s annoying.”

“Maybe he’s just being nice.”

“I doubt it. The bastard wants something. I just haven’t figured out what it is.”

Iwaizumi thought of the way Tendou had accused Iwaizumi of wanting something from Semi and his anger flared again. “Don’t say that. Ushijima isn’t that kind of guy. You know it, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Oikawa frowned at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

“I am, idiot. I always have been.”

“Then hate Ushiwaka with me.”

“Can’t,” said Iwaizumi. “He’s not that bad.”

In fact, Iwaizumi wouldn’t have minded Ushijima at all if it hadn’t been for the questionable company he kept.

“You’re the worst best friend, Iwa-chan.”

“Find a new one.”

Oikawa folded his arms with a huff. He pouted for only a few seconds before again growing serious. “What happened with Tendou?”

“He just pissed me off. Said stuff about Seijoh.” 

It was partially true, and as detailed as Iwaizumi planned to get.

“Do we need to do something about it?” said Oikawa.

It was a grave question, lacking the petty bitterness of Oikawa’s typical attitude toward Shiratorizawa. He was serious, and if Iwaizumi said yes, he knew Oikawa would take whatever action he deemed necessary. He wouldn’t even pry for more information. He would trust Iwaizumi, just like he always had.

Suddenly Iwaizumi felt guilty about keeping his fling with Semi a secret. 

He didn’t feel quite guilty enough to mention it, though.

“No,” said Iwaizumi, reaching for another cigarette. He lit this one himself, his hands steady. “It’s fine. He was just being an ass. I might keep away from the bar for a while, though. Until Shiratorizawa is gone.”

“That would be best the best thing for all of us to do,” admitted Oikawa, “but I can’t stand the thought of letting Ushiwaka win.”

An engine roared in the distance, echoing on the cool wind. Iwaizumi knew it was a motorcycle, but he didn’t know to whom it belonged until it rolled into the parking lot and wheeled to a stop between his and Matsukawa’s bikes. The low light reflected a fresh paint job of dark embers, a burnt orange that Iwaizumi would have recognized anywhere.

Kyoutani pulled off his helmet and slid off the bike, his sharp eyes cutting toward Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He was grinning, and Iwaizumi didn’t know why until Kyoutani came closer and he saw the blood leaking from his busted lip.

“Kyouken-chan,” said Oikawa airily, though the cut of his brows was knifelike. “I know you have a good excuse for looking like you were just in a fight. Because I know you aren’t stupid enough to have just been in a fight.”

“Found a coupla Johzenji guys,” said Kyoutani, still wearing that fierce grin. “Not the ones that jumped me, but good enough.”

Oikawa looked like he was torn between facepalming and throttling Kyoutani into unconsciousness. He gritted his teeth and said, “Get inside. I’ve had enough of your reckless bullshit. Yahaba can deal with this.”

Kyoutani’s grin faded. He looked to Iwaizumi, as if seeking backup, but Oikawa stepped up to block his view. 

“Inside,” snapped Oikawa. “Now.”

Kyoutani glowered but complied, dragging his feet toward the door. Oikawa gave Iwaizumi a look of utter exasperation before following.

Iwaizumi gave him a short wave and put out his cigarette on the sidewalk. He pulled his jacket closer around him, zipped it up, and approached his bike. Kyoutani had parked so close to it that he had to mount it from the opposite side, his hip brushing against Oikawa’s pearly aqua Kawasaki. It was a different model than Semi’s, but still streamlined and built for speed. Oikawa had polished it until it glowed

Iwaizumi yanked his helmet on and started up his own less conspicuous ride, soaking in the roar of the engine as it purred beneath him. Through the shield of his helmet he caught motion from the front door of the bar. Semi stepped out, accompanied by one of his other friends. Iwaizumi thought his name was Oohira but he wasn’t certain. 

Semi looked in his direction, but Iwaizumi twisted the throttle and lurched out of the parking lot without looking back.

  
  
  
  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t go to the bar on Sunday. Typically Seijoh spent a few hours of every weekend night there, and he was sure that most of them had shown up as usual.

But most of them weren’t actively avoiding their problems, so they didn’t have any reason to stay home.

It was a long night, and Iwaizumi found himself thinking too much about what he was missing. He wondered how annoying Oikawa was without him around. He thought about Kyoutani’s mistake the night before, and how Yahaba was probably on his ass for being stupid. 

He wondered if Semi was at the bar too, and if he’d worn the same skin-tight jeans. 

If he was there, then Tendou would be, too. Despite Iwaizumi’s disdain, the thought of Tendou didn’t give him murderous fantasies as it should have. The more he thought about their encounter, the more he found himself identifying with Tendou’s point of view; at least to an extent. Iwaizumi still wanted to knock him out for what he’d said about Oikawa, but he couldn’t be angry about everything he’d said about Semi. If Iwaizumi thought someone was trying to take advantage of his friends, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t think the same way. He would have acted on his suspicions differently, but he at least understood Tendou’s reasoning.

He was trying to protect his friend, and Iwaizumi couldn’t fault him for that.

On Monday morning, Iwaizumi was more well-rested than usual since he’d had an early night. He went to work feeling refreshed, and he was in a decent mood until three o’clock, when he headed to the gym to monitor his team’s after-school practice.

The girls were energized and ready to go, but they weren’t what dampened his good mood. 

That honor was reserved for Oikawa Tooru, who waited for him on the coach’s bench with a maddening grin.

Iwaizumi stopped when he caught sight of him, his shoes squeaking against the polished gym floor. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A high school girl turned to look at him, her eyes wide, and Iwaizumi mumbled a low apology for his language. 

“I just thought I’d stop by for a visit, Iwaizumi-sensei,” said Oikawa smugly. “I’d be more than happy to give your team some advice, if you’d like.”

Several of the girls perked up at the offer, but Iwaizumi waved them toward the court. “Go start your warm-ups. We’re going to do four-on-four practice matches today. Your captain will split you into teams.”

One of the taller girls, her hair shorn into a neat pixie cut, nodded in acknowledgment before herding her teammates toward the far end of the gymnasium.

Iwaizumi dropped down beside Oikawa with a sigh. “What do you really want?”

“Other than watching Iwa-chan coach a team like a responsible adult?” said Oikawa. He shrugged off Iwaizumi’s scowl. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. It was weird without you last night. I think Kindaichi missed you.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” said Iwaizumi, keeping his voice low. “Was Shiratorizawa there?”

Oikawa’s sour expression was answer enough. “Ushiwaka talked to me again. He bought me another beer, too. He didn’t even ask first, so I couldn’t tell him no. He just put it on the table and looked at me, like he was expecting gratitude.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Yes, because someone being polite is practically a crime.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan. You don’t understand.”

“I understand you’re whining about something stupid,” said Iwaizumi. He crossed his arms and looked out across the court, where his team was now jogging warm-up laps around the gym. “Don’t be a dick to him.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one he’s trying to make nice with.” Oikawa tugged at the edge of Iwaizumi’s sleeve, pulling it lower. “Careful there, Iwa-chan. Your delinquency is showing.”

Iwaizumi slapped him away, but adjusted his sleeve to make sure his tattoos were hidden. He needed to keep up the appearance of a respectable member of society if he wanted to preserve his career. People weren’t impressed by teachers with tattoos, and he suspected his team’s mothers wouldn’t want their daughters in the hands of a man who went galavanting about with a motorcycle gang on the weekends. 

“Ushijima will only be around for a couple more weeks,” said Iwaizumi. “Play nice with him until then and you probably won’t ever see him again.”

Just like Iwaizumi would probably never see Semi again.

Oikawa sighed and slouched over, resting his elbows on his knees. “I guess you’re right. Ushiwaka isn’t worth going to prison for, no matter how much I’d like to kill him.”

Iwaizumi slapped him on the shoulder with a bit too much force. “There you go. Keep that in mind. I’m not visiting you in prison.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” said Oikawa, shrugging him off. “I would tell everyone you helped me kill him. We’d be cellmates.”

“If I had to spend all day locked up with you then I’d be the one who’s a murderer.” 

“Rude, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi snorted and pushed himself to his feet, his knees popping as he stood. Oikawa mumbled a snide comment about his age, but Iwaizumi ignored him. 

“I need to get practice started,” said Iwaizumi. “You staying?”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” said Oikawa. “And because the girls could use some of Oikawa-san’s expert advice.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Iwa-chan.”

  
  
  
  
  
The week passed uneventfully. Iwaizumi went to work, tried to keep his students under control, and prepped his team for the spring tournament. His motorcycle remained parked in front of his apartment, unused. 

It wasn’t as if he needed to ride it. He could have lived a perfectly good life without the stupid motorcycle gang Oikawa had thrown together.

He could have, but there was something satisfying about the ride.

Regardless, he stayed in on Friday night instead of cruising out to the bar with Oikawa and the others. He wasn’t angry anymore. On the contrary, he’d started to see the merit in Tendou’s less-than-friendly advice. He wasn’t doing himself or Semi any favors by thirsting after him from across the bar. It would only make things more difficult for both of them, since they’d agreed not to see each other.

For perhaps the hundredth time, Iwaizumi told himself it was for the best.

The memory of Semi in his bed disagreed.

It was about nine o’clock when Oikawa called him, and Iwaizumi expected a whiny lecture about why he should come down to the bar, despite the Shiratorizawa presence.

“I’m busy,” said Iwaizumi when he picked up. He was really just sitting on the couch, but Oikawa didn’t know that. “I don’t have time to listen to-”

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, devoid of its usual affectations. “You need to get down here. I think there’s going to be a fight.”

Iwaizumi was on his feet before Oikawa finished the sentence; his tone said enough. “What’s wrong?”

“Johzenji is here for Kyoutani. I’m trying to talk them down but they’re fucking crazy.”

Iwaizumi pulled on the first shirt that he found. It happened to be in the dirty clothes hamper, but now wasn’t the time to consider his hygiene. “What are they doing now?”

“Yahaba is trying to stall them but he’s not getting anywhere either, especially not with Kyoutani growling in his ear. We can’t call the cops because they’d pick Kyoutani up, too. He beat those guys up pretty bad. They look like shit. Not nearly as bad as they’ll look when this night is over.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Iwaizumi, cramming his feet into his boots. He didn’t bother tying them up. He took off out the door and tried not to trip over the laces. “Are you inside?”

“Outside, behind the bar,” said Oikawa. “Don’t want anyone in there to call the cops, either. If we stay outside they’ll let us mind our own business.”

“Don’t fight anyone until I get there,” snapped Iwaizumi, nearly tripping over the curb as he hopped into the lot. “Tell Kyoutani I’m going to personally kick his ass.”

“Tell him yourself,” said Oikawa. “Shit, gotta go. Hurry.”

There was a distant sound on the other line, a voice raised in either a shout or laughter. 

The call disconnected, and Iwaizumi shoved his phone in his pocket and swung a leg over his bike. He only took the time to shove his helmet over his head before he peeled out of the parking lot, the bike thundering beneath him. He only realized as he took the first corner much too quickly that he’d forgotten his jacket. 

The wind was chilly on his bare arms, but he thought as long as he didn’t wreck and have his skin ripped off by the asphalt he would be fine.

He didn’t push the speed limit; he decimated it. It was fortunate that no police attempted to stop him, because he wasn’t sure if he would have complied or kept going. He didn’t know what was happening at the bar, and he wasn’t about to leave his friends to fend for themselves. If he hadn’t gotten caught up with Semi he would have been there, and maybe he could have done something to stop the fight before it even came close to starting.

Then again, maybe he was giving himself too much credit. They didn’t often deal with Johzenji, but Oikawa hadn’t been wrong when he’d said they were fucking crazy. If they were dead set on a fight, there wasn’t much that could talk them out of it.

A curve gave way to a straight stretch of road and Iwaizumi twisted the throttle until his front wheel reared off the pavement. He adjusted his center of balance and kept speeding forward.

He took the turn into the bar so sharply that the wheels skidded beneath him. He circled the building as quickly as he dared and braked to a sudden jolting stop at the corner, where the brawl was shaded by the back wall of the building.

Seijoh and Johzenji stood opposite one another, in various stances of aggression.

The two gangs weren’t the only ones there.

Iwaizumi lurched off his bike, booted the kickstand, and threw off his helmet before jogging forward to join Seijoh. 

Oikawa stood slightly in front of the rest. His grin was dangerous, stained red by the blood dripping from his nose. 

Beside him was Ushijima, as stoic and stone-faced as ever, flanked by the rest of Shiratorizawa.

“Are you finished already, Teru-chan?” taunted Oikawa, wiping at his nose with the heel of his hand. “I thought you came here for a fight. Come on, let’s fight.”

Terushima Yuuji, the head of Johzenji, was worse for wear. His split lip was bleeding more than Oikawa’s nose, and when he spat on the asphalt, the saliva was red. 

“This isn’t fair,” he said, pointing at Ushijima. “We don’t have any bones to pick with you.”

Ushijima’s face didn’t change. “Seijoh has been gracious to us. If you have a grudge against them, then it is also against me.” 

Oikawa’s grin twisted into a slight grimace, but he didn’t argue.

Iwaizumi moved past Kindaichi and Kunimi, who stood at the back of the group, and took his place beside Oikawa. Oikawa spared him a glance and a small nod, but kept his attention on Terushima.

“We don’t even have a problem with _you_ ,” said Terushima, narrowing his eyes at Oikawa. “Just the mad dog. Let us settle the score with him.”

Kyoutani took a step forward, but Yahaba seized his shoulder with a grip of iron.

“Kyouken-chan was only ending a dispute that you started,” said Oikawa. “You jumped him first, and he returned the favor. You came onto our territory, and I’m kicking you out. We’re even, Teru-chan. Stay away from us and we’ll stay away from you.”

Terushima’s narrow glare shifted from Oikawa to Iwaizumi, then lingered on Ushijima. He licked his bloody lips and said, “If we ever catch one of you over on our side of the city, you’ll regret it.”

“The same goes for you, then,” said Oikawa. “Get out and stay out.”

Terushima clenched his fists at his sides. His knuckles were red, and Iwaizumi wondered if they were stained with Oikawa’s blood. Terushima turned on his heel and stormed toward the lot, gesturing for his gang to follow. They did, throwing black looks back at Seijoh as they migrated away. 

No one moved until a chorus of motors revved up around the corner. Hanamaki broke away to peer out into the lot. When he turned back, he said, “They’re really leaving.”

Oikawa exhaled, his excess bravado leaking out with his sigh. “I think he broke my nose. What if it’s crooked? What if it ruined my face?”

“I told you not to engage him,” said Ushijima. “He was targeting your temper.”

“Shut up, Ushiwaka.”

“Here, let me see,” said Iwaizumi. He gripped Oikawa’s chin and held him still, eyeing the line of his nose. Blood dripped onto his fingers, but it was easy to ignore. It wasn’t the first time Oikawa had bled on him. “It looks fine to me. You’re just as hideous as always.”

Oikawa slapped him away, but couldn’t fight down the curve of a smile. “Thanks, Iwa-chan. I hope you didn’t strain yourself getting here. I could have been dead.”

“Luckily Ushijima was here to protect you,” said Iwaizumi. He looked past Oikawa and offered Ushijima a nod. “Thanks for having our backs.”

Oikawa grumbled something under his breath, but both of them ignored him.

“It is no problem,” said Ushijima. “I am glad to have prevented a fight.”

“Not completely,” said Oikawa, pointing to his face.

“That was your own fault,” said Ushijima. “If you had ignored his taunts, you would not have been injured.”

Oikawa’s scowl was black.

Tendou popped up beside Ushijima and propped an elbow on his shoulder. “I was on-board with Oikawa’s plan. A good brawl is always fun.” His leer slipped toward Iwaizumi, who pointedly looked away.

“I have a first-aid kit in my saddle bag, if you would allow me to check your injury,” said Ushijima.

“I’d rather bleed to death,” Oikawa replied.

Iwaizumi jammed an elbow into his ribs. “Yes, please check him. Just don’t let him bleed on you. His bad attitude is bloodborne.”

Ushijima nodded solemnly, as if accepting the advice.

Oikawa tried to protest, but Iwaizumi shoved him toward the parking lot. 

“I was lying about your nose,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s fucked up. Let Ushijima fix it.”

Oikawa’s eyes flew wide. He was clearly torn between his paranoia about his face and his suspicion that Iwaizumi was lying. Still, when Ushijima headed toward the lot, Oikawa begrudgingly followed.

Iwaizumi looked around at the rest of Seijoh. They all appeared to be unharmed aside from Kyoutani, whose bruises from his last scuffle hadn’t quite faded. Reluctantly he looked to Shiratorizawa as well. The ones he glanced over were in one piece. Semi may or may not have been hurt, because he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at him.

“Let’s get back inside, guys,” he said, waving them toward the bar. “The longer we stand around out here the more suspicious we look.”

“We are suspicious,” said Tendou, swaggering alongside Iwaizumi with a grin. “Very suspicious. It’s part of our charm.”

“You don’t have any charm,” said Iwaizumi.

Tendou hummed. “Most people would say the same about you. Are you always in a bad mood or is that just your face?”

“Keep talking and there’s going to be another fight,” said Iwaizumi through his teeth.

Tendou didn’t respond, and Iwaizumi hoped he was finished talking.

“Semi-Semi is like that, too,” said Tendou. He checked over his shoulder, where the rest of Shiratorizawa followed at a slower pace. “His face, I mean. He always looks mad, even when he’s not. See, look at him. He looks annoyed but he’s just unhappy.”

Despite his better judgment, Iwaizumi looked back. Semi trudged along with his hands in his pockets, brows tucked together in a scowl, a frown tugging at his mouth. He glanced up at Iwaizumi, who looked away the instant their eyes met.

“What’s he unhappy about?” said Iwaizumi.

Tendou stared straight through him. “What do you think?”

Iwaizumi didn’t want to think about it, so he shrugged Tendou off and went to check up on Oikawa. Maybe his nose really was broken. Maybe he needed the moral support of his best friend.

Or maybe Iwaizumi was too much of a coward to face his own problems.


	5. Chapter 5

Iwaizumi’s resolve to stay away from the bar nearly broke the following night.

He’d made an exception when Oikawa had called him, but he was beginning to regret his reckless dash to the bar. Since Ushijima had stepped in, Iwaizumi hadn’t been needed. It had only given him another opportunity to see Semi, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. 

Iwaizumi spent most of Saturday feeling unbearably restless. He thought maybe he was suffering from riding withdrawals, so he spent several hours on curvy country roads, soaking in the thrill of the ride. He stopped off at the overlook in the early afternoon, but there was no silver bike parked beneath the shade trees, so he turned around and pulled back onto the road.

The day was perfect and the ride was soothing, but as soon as he got back to his apartment, he was immediately antsy. 

Iwaizumi knew that half of his nervous energy was his effort to not think about Semi, and the other half was his frustration that he kept doing it anyway. 

If he just went by the bar for a few minutes to catch up with his friends, that wouldn’t be so bad. He would be in and out. He wouldn’t even stay long enough for Shiratorizawa to notice him. Hell, he wouldn’t even look in their direction.

He’d already pulled his jeans halfway up his thighs before he realized what he was doing and kicked them off again.

Iwaizumi couldn’t go to the bar. He’d already made this deal with himself and he intended to keep it.

He sufficed with lounging on the couch and drinking cheap beer out of his fridge. A film branded as a horror movie was playing, but aside from the unnecessary amount of gore, Iwaizumi thought there was nothing horrific about it. He watched it impassively until he caught himself wondering what sort of movies Semi liked.

At that point he decided he needed about six more beers.

He heaved himself off the couch and started toward the kitchen. As soon as he took a single step onto the tile, there was a knock at the door.

Iwaizumi considered ignoring it, because more than likely it was Oikawa there to complain about something else Ushijima had done, or to whine about his nose in person rather than via text. Iwaizumi suspected he was being dramatic, as usual, but still wondered if there was any visible damage. He left his empty beer bottle on the counter and went to answer the door just as his visitor knocked a second time.

Iwaizumi yanked the door open, a complaint tailored to Oikawa already on his tongue.

When he saw who waited on the other side, he went mute.

Semi’s hair was windswept, his lips were chapped, and his brows were tucked into that scowl that Tendou had pointed out the night before. Despite all of that, or perhaps because of it, he was stunning.

“I need to talk to you,” said Semi. “Can I come in?”

Iwaizumi didn’t answer as quickly as he should have. His response was delayed by shock, and a flicker of uncertainty passed across Semi’s face.

“Sure,” said Iwaizumi, stepping back. “Come on.”

Semi moved past him, and Iwaizumi caught a flash of silver from the parking lot where Semi has parked his bike directly beside Iwaizumi’s. The sight was more satisfying than Iwaizumi cared to admit.

Semi pulled off his boots and left them beside the door. He touched the front of his jacket, as if he was considering removing it, too. He decided against it and glanced around the apartment, looking without seeing anything, before dragging his gaze back to Iwaizumi.

“Sorry for just showing up like this,” said Semi. He flattened down his hair self-consciously. 

“It’s fine. What’s wrong?”

Semi sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Tendou said he talked to you last week. Sorry about him. I hope you didn’t take him too seriously. He was just being a dick.”

“No,” said Iwaizumi. “He was just trying to be a good friend.”

Semi blinked. “What?” 

“He was looking out for you,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. He suddenly realized he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers, but his state of undress didn’t seem to make Semi uncomfortable, so Iwaizumi decided not to worry about it. “He could’ve gone about it a better way because he almost got his teeth knocked out, but I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

Semi’s mouth twitched with a grin. “That’s the only way he can do anything. He has to be as annoying as possible. It’s part of his personality.”

“Then he’s lucky he’s got good friends to have his back.”

Semi’s half-smile was soft. He looked down at the floor, shifting beneath Iwaizumi’s attention. “I just wanted to make sure he didn’t freak you out or anything. He does that.”

“Is that really why you’re here?” said Iwaizumi. “Just to apologize?”

Semi’s lip caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed even more deeply. “No.”

Iwaizumi should have been patient. He should have waited for Semi to say whatever he needed to say. There was no need to rush him.

Instead, Iwaizumi touched Semi’s jaw, startling him into eye contact.

Iwaizumi was prepared to pull away, but Semi didn’t act as if the contact was unwelcome. He leaned into it and took a bracing breath.

“I changed my mind,” said Semi after a pause. “About staying away from you.”

Iwaizumi didn’t want to be hopeful because he feared disappointment. Regardless, he couldn’t help the anticipation thrumming beneath his skin as Semi placed a hand over his, trapping Iwaizumi’s hand against his face.

“This is still a bad idea,” said Semi, “and if you want me to leave I won’t argue. I shouldn’t be here at all, but I just… I had to. If this isn’t what you want-”

Whatever he was about to say would be entirely inaccurate, so Iwaizumi kissed the words out of his mouth.

Semi slipped his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist, pulling him closer. Iwaizumi went willingly, tucking a hand inside the warmth of Semi’s jacket to grip his hip, his lips moving against Semi’s with more contentment than urgency. 

Iwaizumi stroked a thumb along Semi’s cheek as he pulled away, watching him through hazy eyes.

“This is what I want,” said Iwaizumi, his voice low. “This is definitely what I want.”

Semi smiled, and the creases across his brow disappeared. “Good.” He slid his hands beneath Iwaizumi’s shirt and stroked cool fingers across warm skin. His voice dipped lower as he said, “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

Heat swelled in Iwaizumi’s gut, and this time when they kissed, the urgency had returned. Semi’s fingers dug into Iwaizumi’s back as he pulled him even closer, chest against chest, his lip catching between Iwaizumi’s teeth. Semi made a sound of need and relief, and Iwaizumi responded by kissing him more deeply.

They didn’t made it to the bedroom. Iwaizumi didn’t have enough rational thought left to even consider it. They fell onto the couch together. The tv remote dug into Iwaizumi’s back as Semi straddled him, sitting up to strip off his jacket. Iwaizumi pulled at his shirt until it followed, and then the bare skin of Semi’s chest was beneath his palms.

Semi kissed him, his tongue slipping between Iwaizumi’s lips. Iwaizumi gripped his hips and rutted upward, against Semi’s jeans, and they both breathed muffled moans.

“Hang on,” said Semi, breaking away. He stumbled upright and tugged at the button of his pants, struggling out of them. Iwaizumi took the opportunity to fling the remote onto the coffee table and pull off his own shirt. As soon as it was over his head Semi was back, draping himself over Iwaizumi, the heat of his body wonderfully stifling.

He rolled his hips down against Iwaizumi, growled in discontent, and paused to strip them both of their underwear. The next time he rubbed himself against Iwaizumi, the friction was divine.

Iwaizumi wanted to push into the heat of Semi’s body, or even feel the bliss of Semi inside of him. He wanted many things, but didn’t have the patience for any of them. He’d waited too long to touch Semi again, and he wasn’t going to last long enough to prepare for anything thorough. From the way Semi was grinding against him, his breath already coming short, Iwaizumi thought he felt the same.

Iwaizumi spat into his palm and stifled a snort at the way Semi’s nose wrinkled. He reached between them and took their cocks in his hand, giving a few tentative strokes until the slide became smoother. When the harsh friction eased he stroked with purpose, dragging a tight grip up and down in a way that made Semi’s hips jerk into his hand.

“Fuck,” breathed Semi. He dropped his head and pressed his face against Iwaizumi’s neck. His lips grazed Iwaizumi’s skin.

Iwaizumi’s cock jolted in his hand. He increased his pace, gritting his teeth against the slight burn of returning friction. Semi raised his head to spit into his own palm and reached down to help, his fingers slick. Iwaizumi let his head fall back, a moan rolling between his lips. Semi kissed him with near desperation, his tongue tangling with Iwaizumi’s as his hips rocked forward and his cock pulsed in their overlapping hands. 

Semi came across Iwaizumi’s fingers and onto his stomach, the heat dripping onto Iwaizumi’s cock. When Semi was spent he shuddered and pulled away from Iwaizumi’s grip, but he didn’t go far. He nudged Iwaizumi’s hand aside and curled his fingers around Iwaizumi, stroking him with a quick flick of his wrist, using his own come as lube. He mouthed at Iwaizumi’s neck, his lips working against sensitive skin, a bare scrape of teeth.

“Fuck,” hissed Iwaizumi, throwing his head back. “Fuck, I’m… Semi… _Semi_ …”

He came with a groan, spilling onto his own stomach, his come mixing with Semi’s. Semi worked him through it until Iwaizumi’s oversensitivity made him twitch away from the caress.

Semi sank back on the couch, spine pressed against the armrest. Iwaizumi remained where he was and wondered if he was melting into a human puddle.

When his heartbeats had slowed to nearly normal, Iwaizumi pushed himself up on his elbows. Semi’s eyes were half-closed, but still he watched Iwaizumi, satisfied.

“I’m going to go clean up,” said Iwaizumi, his voice gruff. “Want a towel or something?”

“Sure.” 

Iwaizumi grunted as he got to his feet, cupping a hand against his stomach to keep cooling come from dripping into the floor. He wiped himself off in the bathroom, then doused and wrung out a fresh towel to take to Semi. It was accepted with a smile, and Semi tidied himself up while Iwaizumi stood idly by.

Now that the high of the orgasm had passed, Iwaizumi couldn’t help wondering if Semi had only stopped by for sex. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy, but since they weren’t supposed to see each other in a romantic capacity, it was possible that he’d decided this was all they could have.

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have minded. It wasn’t as if he was complaining about the intimacy. Still, he thought about the night he’d spent at Semi’s apartment, when there had been something more between them than just sexual attraction.

Semi tossed the soiled towel to Iwaizumi, who discarded it in the bathroom before returning to the couch. Semi still sat at one end, relaxed and exquisite.

“Do you want to stay?” said Iwaizumi. 

Semi raised a brow at him.

“Doesn’t have to be for the whole night,” said Iwaizumi. “Just for a while, if you want. We can watch tv or something.”

“What if I want to stay for the whole night?” asked Semi passively.

Iwaizumi’s heart skipped. “Then you can.”

Semi glanced down at Iwaizumi’s nudity. “Do I have to put pants on?”

“I don’t care if you put anything on,” said Iwaizumi. He plopped onto the middle cushion and yanked at the blanket draped across the back of the couch. “I’m not going to complain about it.”

Semi shook his head, but he was smiling. Iwaizumi tossed one side of the blanket over him and Semi nestled closer, his skin smooth and perfect against Iwaizumi’s side.

They ended up bundled together, Semi’s legs across Iwaizumi’s thighs, his toes peeking out of the blanket. Semi dozed off half an hour into the movie he’d chosen, but Iwaizumi didn’t mind. He threaded his fingers through Semi’s hair and felt himself beginning to drift toward sleep, too.

He should probably wake Semi up and guide him to the bed, but he looked so peaceful that Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

He’d thought he would never see Semi like this again. Their destiny had been reduced to longing looks and wishful fantasies, and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful that Semi had broken their agreement. 

He didn’t know what would happen now, or what was waiting in his future.

He only knew that he wanted Semi to be part of it.

  
  
  
  
  
Sometime during the night, Semi and Iwaizumi made the journey to the bedroom. Iwaizumi didn’t remember moving, but he woke up in his bed with Semi’s arm thrown across his chest above a tangle of firm legs.

The last time they’d spent the night together, he hadn’t gotten the chance to wake up next to Semi.

This time he was going to savor it.

He trailed his fingers along the line of Semi’s exposed shoulder, tracing down to his elbow and back again. He brushed Semi’s hair away from his face and stroked through it gently, gradually stirring him into tranquil awareness.

As soon as Semi was awake a crease appeared between his brows, and Iwaizumi remembered what Tendou had said about his perpetual scowl.

“Hey,” mumbled Semi. He extracted himself from Iwaizumi to stretch out his limbs but immediately curled back into him. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s Sunday so it doesn’t matter.”

Semi mumbled something, but the words were muffled into Iwaizumi’s chest. 

They stayed like that for a while, floating in a comforting lull. Iwaizumi had almost drifted off again when Semi said, “Can you cook?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “No.”

“Too bad. That’s the only reason I stayed over.”

Iwaizumi grinned and turned into Semi, nosing against his jaw. “What about you? Can you cook?”

“Hell no,” said Semi. “I’m hopeless.”

“Guess we’ll just starve.” Iwaizumi kissed him, and he intended it to be short and chaste.

Semi’s fingers caught in the back of Iwaizumi’s hair to hold him in place, and Iwaizumi had no desire to pull away.

It was a while before they dragged themselves out of bed and into the kitchen. They settled for a breakfast of toast, and though it was dry and mediocre, Iwaizumi thoroughly enjoyed it. He suspected that was a result of the company rather than the food.

When Semi started gathering his clothes out of the floor, Iwaizumi was displeased, but not surprised. He couldn’t stay forever.

“So,” said Semi, when he’d struggled his way into his jeans and was pulling his shirt on. “What now?”

“Depends,” said Iwaizumi.

“On what?”

“On what you want.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall by the door as Semi tugged on his boots. 

Semi yanked the laces tight with a sigh and rose. With his boots on, he was slightly taller. Iwaizumi wasn’t bothered by it.

“I want to do this again,” said Semi. “That’s what I want.”

“Guess that’s what we’re doing then.”

Semi smirked. He crowded Iwaizumi against the wall and kissed him, one hand cradling his jaw, the other pressing into the small of Iwaizumi’s back. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Not yet,” said Iwaizumi. “Not until we figure out what’s going to happen.”

Semi nodded, his breath warm on Iwaizumi’s lips. “Okay. Want to meet at my place tonight?”

“What if someone sees my bike there?”

“Tendou’s the only one who comes around,” said Semi. “I don’t care if he sees. If he was going to rat me out he would’ve done it already.”

“Just tell me what time to be there.”

“Give me your number.”

Iwaizumi did, and he received Semi’s information in exchange. Semi grabbed his jacket off the rack by the door and left with one more parting kiss.

Iwaizumi tidied up the kitchen and took a shower, intending to spend the day cleaning up his apartment. He needed to go to the store too, and if he stocked up on breakfast foods while he was out, then that was all the better.

About forty-five minutes after Semi left, Iwaizumi’s phone rang. The call was from his newly registered contact, and he answered it with a teasing, “Miss me already?”

Semi snorted into the phone. Somewhere in the background was a sharp cackle that put Iwaizumi on edge. “Hey, listen. I grabbed your jacket by mistake. Could you bring mine with you tonight so we can swap out?”

Iwaizumi glanced at the coat rack, where his leather jacket was conspicuously absent. It was only when he did a proper scan of the living room that he found Semi’s jacket wedged between the couch and the wall, where Semi must have thrown it the night before. 

“You’re wearing my jacket?” said Iwaizumi.

“I know, I know,” said Semi with a sigh. “It doesn’t even fit the same but I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Iwaizumi. It was more than fine, but he thought telling Semi that he was thoroughly enjoying the mental image of him in a Seijoh jacket was going too far. “Yeah, I’ll bring yours later. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Semi. The cackling voice said something sharp before devolving into laughter again. 

“Tendou?” asked Iwaizumi.

“Unfortunately. He’s the one who noticed. At least there’s no one else around. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Later.”

Iwaizumi ended the call and slumped onto the end of the couch with Semi’s jacket. It was a slimmer fit than Iwaizumi’s and the leather was glossier. He turned it over and studied the patch on the back, the proud eagle rearing above the kanji for Shiratorizawa. 

He’d always disliked Shiratorizawa on general principle, and Oikawa was likely to blame for that. Still, he’d never hated them. The more he got to know them, the more he realized they weren’t that bad after all. Ushijima had proven himself on Friday night. After that, not even Oikawa would be able to insist that Ushijima was complete trash. Tendou didn’t even seem horrible any more, after Iwaizumi had decided his brash behavior had been for Semi’s sake.

Iwaizumi couldn’t hold that against him. He was glad Semi had a good friend to look out for him.

With a huff, Iwaizumi hauled himself off of the couch and hooked the jacket on the coat rack. He would take it with him later, and if he wore it on the ride to Semi’s apartment, no one else had to know.

  
  
  
  
  
It was a good night; a great night, actually. Semi ordered takeout from a nearby restaurant and they ate in the warmth of his kotatsu. Afterward Semi ate out Iwaizumi, and it was bliss.

Iwaizumi couldn’t believe they’d almost thrown this away.

They were in a messy pile in Semi’s bed, Iwaizumi’s forehead still damp with sweat, when his phone rang. He groaned, considered ignoring it, and clawed his way to the edge of the bed to reach for his discarded jeans. By the time he’d dragged them over and fished the phone out of his pocket, the ringing had stopped. Before he had a chance to check the missed call it started up again, and he was unsurprised to see it was Oikawa.

He flopped back down beside Semi, who grappled with the sheets and flung them across their lower halves. He pillowed his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, and Iwaizumi curled an arm around his shoulders as he answered the phone. “Hey, Oikawa.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Semi raised his head, as if checking to see if the death threat was something to be concerned about. Iwaizumi shook his head, dismissive, and Semi plopped back down.

“Who pissed you off this time?” asked Iwaizumi.

“Who do you think?” snapped Oikawa, his tone toxic. “Fucking Ushiwaka. I’m going to kill him and I expect you to help me bury his body.”

“Too much effort.”

“I am not kidding, Iwa-chan.” The distant purr of traffic was audible past his voice. “I already hated him, but he’s gone too far. Do you know what he did?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

Semi breathed a laugh, his breath warm against Iwaizumi’s chest.

“He’s a liar,” growled Oikawa. “You heard him at the bar, droning on about how their renovations are almost finished. He’s full of shit. I just drove past their bar and it’s open. I went inside to see when they finished the renovations and the bartender said it was done three weeks ago. _Three weeks ago_ , Iwa-chan. They’ve been tormenting us for three weeks for no reason. I’m going to track Ushiwaka down and snap his big thick neck.”

Iwaizumi processed that. He couldn’t imagine Ushijima lying about something so insignificant. He didn’t seem like a dishonest sort of person. 

There was no denying what Oikawa said, though. Clearly Ushijima had misled them.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. “It’s Sunday. Just let it go. If they stick around this weekend you can ask him about it then.”

“Not good enough,” said Oikawa. “I’m going to ask him _now_.”

“Is he still at the bar?” said Iwaizumi. He held the phone away to check the time. It was nearly midnight, later than they usually stayed out on Sundays.

“No, he and the rest of his loser friends left an hour ago. I’m going to his apartment.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. Just calm down and… wait, how do you know where he lives?”

“I know everything. I would think you’d have learned that after twenty-five years of friendship.”

“Oikawa, don’t go and make a scene,” said Iwaizumi. “Even if he did lie, he probably had a good reason for it. You know he’s not the kind of guy who would just fuck with you.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan. I’ll text you the address when I need you. Bring a shovel.” 

With that Oikawa ended the call, and Iwaizumi wondered how he’d gotten roped into keeping that idiot around as his best friend.

“Do you need to go?” said Semi.

“No.” Iwaizumi pulled him closer. “Oikawa can make a fool of himself without my help.”

“They did finish renovations a couple weeks back,” said Semi. “Tendou suggested we just pretend it didn’t happen. Ushijima agreed, which was a surprise. He usually wouldn’t be into something like that. Their motivation was different, though. Tendou wanted to make you guys uncomfortable for another couple of weeks. I think Ushijima wanted the extra time to try and convince Oikawa to be his friend.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work out for him now,” said Iwaizumi. “Oikawa is pissed.”

“Think they’ll be alright?”

“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi. “Oikawa won’t actually try to fight him. He’ll just bitch for a while until he gets it out of his system.” 

“Ushijima won’t mind,” said Semi. “As patient as he is with Tendou, he’s basically a saint.”

Silence blossomed between them, broken only by steady breaths and the occasional ruffle of the sheets. After a while, Semi said, “I think… if I tell Ushijima about us, it won’t be that bad. I talked to Tendou about it, and even though he’s an ass, I think he’s right. Ushijima won’t be worried about it. I don’t remember why I thought he’d be mad.”

“That’s good,” said Iwaizumi, “but Oikawa will be furious.”

Semi propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at him. “We can keep it a secret, if you want.”

“I don’t like keeping secrets,” said Iwaizumi. “I’d rather just tell everyone. Keeping it from them makes it seem like I’m ashamed, and I’m definitely not. I’m proud, if anything. I mean, look at you.” He tucked a piece of Semi’s hair behind his ear and was rewarded with a light flush across Semi’s cheeks.

“Whatever,” mumbled Semi, averting his eyes. “Just… whenever you’re ready, I’m okay with it. I don’t care who knows.” He dipped down to kiss Iwaizumi, a slow slide of lips. “I’m not ashamed, either.”

Iwaizumi slipped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close. 

  
  
  
  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t hear from Oikawa again that night except for a single text at about two a.m. that said, _I buried the body myself. Don’t worry about helping_.

Iwaizumi tried calling him the following morning, and a couple of times throughout the afternoon, to no avail. That sort of radio silence wasn’t common of Oikawa. Iwaizumi was worried despite himself.

He let the girls leave practice early at four-thirty and headed downtown, where Oikawa worked at a renowned rehabilitative therapy clinic.

The receptionist recognized Iwaizumi immediately and welcomed him with a smile. She said nothing as he shouldered his way through the door marked “Patients Only.”

It was late in the day, so most of the sessions had already wrapped up. There was a young boy on the far side of the room doing hamstring stretches and an elderly man trundling along on a low-resistance exercise bike. On one of the low tables a woman was giggling; probably at something stupid, considering Oikawa was the one standing nearby.

“That’s it for today, Rei-chan,” said Oikawa with a flourish. “Make sure you keep up with the stretches we talked about, okay? You’ll be back to top condition in no time.”

The woman thanked him, perhaps a bit more warmly than was necessary. When she passed by Iwaizumi on her way out, she was beaming.

Oikawa was smiling too, but his cheer fell off his face when he caught sight of Iwaizumi. 

“Iwa-chan!” he said, his voice pitching too high. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see why you’ve been ignoring my calls all day,” said Iwaizumi. “I thought maybe you’d actually killed Ushijima and gone on the run.”

Oikawa laughed, too loudly and with an edge of nerves. Iwaizumi didn’t understand what he could have been nervous about.

“Don’t be silly, Iwa-chan,” he said, waving him off. He adjusted the high collar of his shirt and started wiping down the table. “Of course I didn’t kill him. He isn’t worth going to prison for.”

“What happened, then?”

“Oh, you know.” Oikawa gestured vaguely. “I asked him why he lied and he came up with some stupid excuse. No big deal.”

Iwaizumi moved closer and Oikawa sidestepped away from him, again tugging at his collar.

“Why are you so twitchy?” said Iwaizumi. “What really happened?”

“That’s it!” said Oikawa brightly. “I called him a liar and then went back home. The end, story over. I’m kind of busy here, if we could talk about this later-”

“Stop being shifty, Shittykawa. It’s annoying.”

“I’m not shifty! How dare you suggest such a thing. I’m perfectly fine.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes and Oikawa stared back with false innocence.

Oikawa fidgeted with his shirt collar one more time and Iwaizumi couldn’t stand the stalemate anymore. 

He lunged forward and pinned Oikawa against the bed, grabbing at his collar. Oikawa swatted him away, and his knee jammed into Iwaizumi’s thigh, but he didn’t give in. Iwaizumi seized a handful of shirt and yanked, exposing Oikawa’s pale neck.

And the bruise that had been sucked into the skin just above the junction of his shoulder.

Iwaizumi released him and took a step back, his jaw slack. 

Oikawa pawed at his shirt with a weak scowl, covering the mark.

“You didn’t,” said Iwaizumi.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Oikawa, his voice rising even higher. “I didn’t do anything. Whatever you’re suggesting isn’t-”

“You fucked Ushijima.”

Oikawa sputtered, glanced around, and towed Iwaizumi further into the corner, away from the two remaining patients who watched them with interest.

“How dare you even say that,” said Oikawa, feigning affront. “I have never been more insulted in my life.”

“Where’d you get the hickie then? Why do you even have one? You’re not a fucking teenager anymore.”

“That doesn't mean much, coming from _you_ ,” snapped Oikawa. When Iwaizumi didn't rise to the bait, he said in a rush, “I stopped at a convenience store on my way home and there was this girl working there. Really pretty, nice figure. She said she liked my bike and I offered her a ride, and we ended up at my place. She was a little frisky.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“I am not! That’s really what happened.”

“You haven’t slept with a woman in five years.”

“I can sleep with whoever I want,” said Oikawa. He tried to glare, but he was still too shifty for it to be convincing. 

“Including Ushijima?”

“I did not sleep with Ushijima!” snapped Oikawa, his glare sliding to the side.

“Look me in the eye and say that again.”

Oikawa scowled at him, opened his mouth, and faltered. He shook his head and said, “I didn’t sleep with Ushijima. That’s disgusting, Iwa-chan. Despicable. Just the thought of it makes me want to puke.”

Iwaizumi was unmoved by the denial. If anything, it cemented his certainty that it had happened. “I can’t believe you fucked Ushijima, after I’ve listened to you complain about him for _years_. If I’d known it was just sexual tension I would’ve made you play nice with him a long time ago.”

Oikawa wanted to continue arguing. It was clear on his face, but Iwaizumi’s certainty and resolve drew him up short. He slapped his hands over his face and groaned. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Iwaizumi sighed and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” whispered Oikawa. “Oh my god, Iwa-chan, it’s the opposite of okay. It was so good. I can’t remember the last time sex was that good.”

Iwaizumi had to bite his lip to keep his humor under control. He wasn’t such a bad friend that he would laugh in Oikawa’s face while he was having a personal crisis. 

He would save the laughing for later.

“What are you going to do?” said Iwaizumi.

“Pretend it never happened,” answered Oikawa instantly. “I told him to forget about it. It was a one-time thing. Just a stupid mistake. I’m going to try to erase it from my memory.”

“Why would you want to forget the best sex you ever had?”

“I didn’t say it was the best,” hissed Oikawa. “It was just… really good.”

“So good that you’d do it again?”

Oikawa muffled a groan into his hands. “He answered the door with his shirt off. Have you ever seen him with his shirt off? He looks photoshopped.”

Iwaizumi had to bite his lip again. A laugh bubbled in his throat.

“Iwa-chan,” whispered Oikawa, emerging from his hands. His eyes were wide and desperate. “I let him top. I let Ushijima Wakatoshi fuck me. I don’t think I can live with myself.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “Come on, let’s go get a drink. You’re going to need some alcohol to come to terms with your feelings about Ushijima.”

“I don’t have any feelings for Ushijima.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Iwaizumi, steering him toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Iwaizumi had a bare speck of sympathy for Oikawa’s plight, but overall he was thrilled. This was the best thing that could have happened for him. After Oikawa had slept with Ushijima, telling him about the affair with Semi would be nothing. He had no right to get mad when he’d done something worse.

There was no reason to tell him immediately, though. There was plenty of time for that later. For now, he was going to bask in Oikawa’s desperate denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! It will wrap up next Friday. I'll also be posting a Ushioi oneshot from this AU soon, probably next Saturday. Thanks for reading, guys!


	6. Chapter 6

“They’re here again,” said Hanamaki flatly, his elbows on the table and his unimpressed stare stuck to the door. “I thought you told them to get lost, Oikawa.”

Oikawa glanced over his shoulder, barely taking in the new arrivals before pointedly turning back around. “I did, but Ushiwaka seemed so dejected I told him they could stay one more weekend. He was almost crying, Makki. You should’ve seen him.”

Iwaizumi gave him a look, but Oikawa avoided his eyes. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” said Hanamaki. “What do you think, Mattsun?”

“Didn’t happen,” agreed Matsukawa. “I don’t think Ushijima has emotions. He’s at least half robot.”

“Android,” said Hanamaki with a sage nod. “Good call.”

“He is not,” said Oikawa.

Iwaizumi raised a brow at him. “You would know.”

Oikawa took a too-large drink of his beer and said nothing else.

Iwaizumi picked up his glass too, idly watching Shiratorizawa as they made a stop at the bar or drifted toward a table. Tendou sent a sly wink in his direction and Semi offered only a lingering glance before turning away to order a drink. He was wearing those tight jeans again and Iwaizumi wanted nothing more than to peel them off.

“Yo, Iwaizumi. Did you hear me?” 

Hanamaki’s sharp elbow demanded his attention and Iwaizumi tuned back into the conversation. “Huh?”

“I said we should’ve teamed up with Johzenji last week instead,” said Hanamaki. “We could’ve scared off the damn eagles together.”

“Everyone in Johzenji is a fucking moron,” said Iwaizumi. “We’re not teaming up with them for anything.”

“Are they worse than Shiratorizawa?”

Iwaizumi shrugged, his focus again drifting across the room. “Yeah, probably.”

Hanamaki said something else, probably a complaint, but Iwaizumi tuned him out.

For a while, everything was calm. Yahaba and Kyoutani were off at a corner table, speaking in low voices over a pair of beers. Watari and Kindaichi were racking up a pool table, Kunimi rejoining them after a quick trip to the bar. After a brief chat, Watari broke away to recruit Matsukawa to join them and even out their numbers. Oikawa complained, as was expected, but it was only for show. He wasn’t actually annoyed, and they all stayed away from the topic of the rival gang seated across the room.

It was only when a pair of men wearing Shiratorizawa jackets – Iwaizumi thought they were called Yamagata and Goshiki, but he wasn’t certain – migrated over to one of the pool tables that the conversation returned to their less-than-welcome guests.

“Look at them, just strolling around like they own the place,” said Hanamaki. His mouth quirked into a frown. “You should’ve let me go with you last night to talk shit to Ushijima. If we’d both been there we could’ve scared him away for good.”

“Yes, Makki-chan,” said Oikawa, his voice sugary sweet. “Because you’re so intimidating.”

Hanamaki scowled. “I am intimidating.”

“To kittens and small children, maybe.”

“I didn’t make that kid cry, Oikawa. It was horrified by your face and you know it.”  


They bickered over the past incident for too long. They would have kept going indefinitely if someone hadn’t pulled out the vacant chair beside Oikawa, bringing the pair to silence.

Ushijima placed a beer on the table and nudged it close to Oikawa. “It appears your drink is empty.”

Oikawa looked from the beer to Ushijima and then, more quickly, to Iwaizumi. There was muted panic in his eyes, his shoulders tense.

Iwaizumi smirked and said nothing.

“I am perfectly capable of getting my own beer, Ushiwaka-chan,” said Oikawa, his voice wavering only slightly. 

“I am aware,” said Ushijima. “I am only being polite.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to snap something back, but seemed to think better of it. He took the beer with a mumble that was supposed to be gratitude and glanced off to the side as he took a sip.

Hanamaki looked like he’d been slapped. Clearly he’d been expecting a different reaction.

“Good evening, Ushijima,” said Iwaizumi. “How are you?”

He thought engaging Ushijima in conversation would annoy Oikawa. Judging from the glare he received, he was right.

“I am very well, thank you,” said Ushijima. “And you?”

Iwaizumi grinned. “I’m great.”

“What is happening?” said Hanamaki hollowly. He pinched himself under the table, winced, and shook his head. “No.” He stood and wandered off to the pool tables, where he slumped against Matsukawa and hid his face between his shoulderblades. Matsukawa continued playing, unbothered.

“Is your friend alright?” asked Ushijima, brows pulling together.

“He’s fine,” said Iwaizumi. “He’s always like that.”

Ushijima nodded solemnly and turned to Oikawa. “I apologize for not calling you this morning, as I’d promised. I was busy with work.”

Oikawa immediately looked like he’d been scalded. He pressed a hand over his burning face and said, “Shut up, Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima seemed puzzled.

Iwaizumi was grinning so hard that his face ached. He sat back and basked in the awkward conversation between them, Oikawa growing more flustered by the minute. When Ushijima asked Oikawa about his plans later that night and Oikawa sputtered for a response, they were interrupted by one more intruder.

Tendou dropped into the chair beside Iwaizumi with a grin. The table went quiet and he said, “Don’t mind me. Continue on with whatever embarrassing conversation you were having.”

Ushijima took that in stride. He turned back to Oikawa and said, “If you are not busy, you can come over to my apartment. I would be glad to have you as a guest again.” 

“Ushiwaka, we’re in _public_ ,” snapped Oikawa, slapping a hand over his face.

“Did I say something wrong?” said Ushijima, perplexed. “If so, I apologize.”

Oikawa muttered something that Iwaizumi didn’t catch, because Tendou chose that moment to lean close.

“Iwaizumi-san,” he said, voice low but playful. He slung an arm across the back of Iwaizumi’s chair. “You look nice tonight. Very handsome.”

Iwaizumi gave him a blank stare. 

Tendou shrugged. “I’m guessing that’s what Semi-Semi is thinking, anyway. There’s gotta be a reason he keeps looking over here.”

Iwaizumi looked past Oikawa and Ushijima’s squabbling to find Semi staring from across the room, his expression muddied by dread. He was probably worried about what Tendou was whispering into Iwaizumi’s ear. 

“Did you want something?” asked Iwaizumi, reaching for his drink, “or are you just harassing me for the fun of it?”

“Just wanted to talk to you,” said Tendou with a shrug. “See what’s so special about you that’s captured my dear Semi-Semi’s heart. So far your physique and your tendency to insult Oikawa appear to be your best assets.”

“I don’t need your approval,” said Iwaizumi.

“True,” hummed Tendou. “Neither does Semi. He only needed Ushijima’s, and he got that last night when he told him the two of you have been hooking up.”

Iwaizumi nearly choked on his whiskey. He spluttered and coughed, too aware of Tendou’s smug satisfaction. Ushijima and Oikawa paused, staring, but resumed their conversation when Iwaizumi waved them off.

Iwaizumi wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and turned to Tendou. “ _What?_ ”

His smile was maddening. “I told Semi-Semi he should’ve mentioned that.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing exciting,” said Tendou. “We caught Wakatoshi on a very friendly phone call with your friend here.” He nodded at Oikawa, who was too caught up in his red-faced conversation with Ushijima to notice. “Semi thought that was the best opportunity to go ahead and mention his questionable exploits.” Tendou paused, then admitted, “Okay, so maybe I’m the one who brought it up. It turned out okay, though. Wakatoshi was fine with it. He said promoting positive intergang relationships is beneficial for all of us, or something like that.” Tendou made a vague gesture. “Anyway, it’s all fine. You have Wakatoshi’s blessing.”

Iwaizumi’s attention shifted to the men across the table, who were speaking in low murmurs that he couldn’t decipher. Oikawa still looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushed in a way Iwaizumi hadn’t witnessed since high school.

Oikawa may have been in denial, but it was clear that he had feelings for Ushijima. As soon as he accepted that, the two of them might build something together. Iwaizumi hoped so. Oikawa was a nuisance, but he was still Iwaizumi’s best friend. He deserved to be happy.

Iwaizumi thought he deserved the same himself.

“Hey, Oikawa,” he said, interrupting the conversation.

“What?” said Oikawa, a bit defensive. He probably thought Iwaizumi was going to tease him.

“I’m dating Semi,” said Iwaizumi, the confession making him feel lighter. “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d flip your shit.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s Semi?”

Iwaizumi gestured across the room, to the table hosting the Shiratorizawa gang. “Semi Eita. The handsome one.”

Oikawa whipped his head around. Semi stared back at them, confused by the attention.

“You’re _what?_ ” snapped Oikawa, turning back. “What do you mean, _dating_ him? He’s one of _them_ , Iwa-chan. What are you thinking?”  


Iwaizumi was unimpressed. A week ago, before the Ushijima Incident, he would have been afraid to have this conversation.

As it were, Oikawa’s ire fell flat.

“You fucked Ushijima,” said Iwaizumi, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stood. “You’re the last person who can judge me.”

Oikawa’s mouth fell open. Tendou burst into a fit of giggles as Iwaizumi strode away, crossing the room to the forbidden table occupied by Shiratorizawa. He took the seat beside Semi, ignoring the stares of Semi’s friends. 

“Hey,” he said, scooting the chair a little closer. “Can I sit here?”

Semi glanced past him, where Oikawa still stared at them with visible distress. Semi smiled a little and said, “You’re already sitting.”

“Yeah, but I’ll move if you want.”

“Nah,” said Semi. He inched his own chair closer, until their knees knocked together. “Stay.”

Their Shiratorizawa tablemates were stunned, but Semi didn’t seem to mind. He leaned his shoulder against Iwaizumi’s and smiled.

Semi’s smile was Iwaizumi’s favorite.

 

 

 

A couple of hours later, Ushijima and Oikawa left the bar within minutes of each other, and Iwaizumi didn’t fail to note the suspicious behavior.

He couldn’t think on it very long. He went home with Semi shortly after that, and had no thought to spare for Oikawa and Ushijima.

“Ah- Iwaizumi- _fuck_.”

Semi’s voice was a deep rasp, and it made Iwaizumi even harder. He pressed against him, his chest flush against Semi’s back, and rolled his hips forward. 

Semi moaned, muffled by the wall he was being fucked against. His hands were splayed against the plaster, fingers curled slightly, legs spread wide to accommodate Iwaizumi. With every thrust Semi’s cock rubbed against the wall and he was shaking beneath Iwaizumi’s rough but gentle hands.

They hadn’t made it to the bedroom. They were crowded against the wall of Semi’s living room, and it was fortunate that he’d had some lube stashed away beside the couch.

Fucking on the couch would have been more comfortable, but there was something primal and desperate about this that was highly appealing.

Iwaizumi went up on his toes for a better angle and Semi rutted back against him. Iwaizumi was so hot that sweat beaded at his temples and dampened the broad muscles of his back, but he didn’t think it was related to the temperature of the room.

“I’m not gonna last,” said Iwaizumi, his voice gravel-rough. 

Semi made a muffled sound and reached back to grip Iwaizumi’s hip, yanking him closer. “Doesn’t matter. The second you touch me I’m done.”

Iwaizumi gritted his teeth against a moan, braced a hand against the wall over Semi’s shoulder, and fucked into him more insistently. 

The sound that fell from Semi’s lips was low and breathy. His nails dug into Iwaizumi’s hip and he pressed back against him, a moan rumbling in his throat.

It was too much. Iwaizumi’s muscles went taut with the first pulse of his orgasm, and he felt his own moan building. He was too far gone to swallow it down, so he bit into Semi’s shoulder to muffle the noise, hips still twitching forward.

Semi went rigid, his hand falling away from Iwaizumi to scrabble at the wall, his voice pitching higher. He tightened around Iwaizumi, squeezing him in a way that stole his breath. 

Iwaizumi rode out his orgasm and waited until Semi had stopped shuddering before he pulled out and stepped back. 

Semi mumbled something as he moved to the side, frowning at the splash of come on the wall. He glanced back at Iwaizumi. “That was your fault. You’re cleaning it up.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yeah, okay. Worth it.”

The slight smirk and quick kiss he received after that was definitely worth it.

Despite what Semi said, the subsequent cleaning was a joint effort. They tidied up the living room, crammed themselves into Semi’s too-small shower, and ended up in Semi’s bed, bundled together in a warm twist of sheets and skin.

It was the same as before, but there was something more soothing about it. This wasn’t a secret that had to be trapped in the cage of these walls. Semi was no longer someone that Iwaizumi couldn’t hope to keep.

The rest of Seijoh had been just as shocked as Oikawa, but none of them - with the exception of Hanamaki, who had been personally offended - had seemed to mind. Semi’s friends hadn’t either, after they’d gotten over their initial surprise. Before he and Semi had left the bar, he spent most of the evening at the Shiratorizawa table. He’d been pleased to find they weren’t so bad, and none of them were as strange or off-putting as Tendou.

He couldn’t even be mad at Tendou, though. He’d done Iwaizumi a favor.

Iwaizumi supposed he should forgive him for the bathroom incident after all. He wasn’t sure what had changed Tendou’s mind about their relationship, but he was pleased that it was no longer a problem.

“Hey,” said Semi. He slipped his fingers through Iwaizumi’s. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Wondering if Oikawa swallowed his pride and let Ushijima cuddle him after they fucked,” said Iwaizumi.

Semi snorted. “If he did, I’m sure he complained the whole time.”

“You know him so well already,” said Iwaizumi. He hooked a leg around Semi’s, shifting closer. “He’s known Ushijima for years, and he’s complained about him since the day they met. I can’t believe it was just some sort of repressed attraction. He’s a fucking moron.”

“And Ushijima is fucking a moron,” said Semi with a smirk. 

Iwaizumi grinned. “Whatever makes them happy, I guess.”

“Yeah. Makes things easier for us.”

Iwaizumi grunted in agreement. He threw an arm across Semi and pressed his face against his shoulder. 

“You know I would’ve told Oikawa anyway, even without the weird thing he has with Ushijima,” said Iwaizumi. “It would’ve been tough, but you’re worth it.”

Semi’s fingers trailed through Iwaizumi’s hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too. Tendou ran his mouth before I had a chance to tell Ushijima, but I would have.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Semi as he said, “You know I really like you.”

Semi traced the line of Iwaizumi’s jaw, gently. “I really like you, too.”

Heat burned beneath Iwaizumi’s skin. He peeled himself away from Semi and rolled away from him with a huff, settling on his side. “That’s enough sappy shit for the night. I’m going to sleep.”

Semi laughed, low and deep, and it was divine. He shuffled close and fitted himself against Iwaizumi’s back, his breath warm on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his arm curving over his torso and pulling him close. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” said Semi. He pressed a kiss against the back of Iwaizumi’s neck and settled in more comfortably. A minute passed, and he murmured, “Goodnight, Hajime.”

If he felt the small, pleased shiver that crawled down Iwaizumi’s spine, he didn’t mention it.

 

 

 

Two Fridays later, Iwaizumi had one of the longest days of his professional career. 

He’d given mid-term exams to his class, and had suffered through an entire afternoon of anxious students worried about their grades. The prefectural tournament was quickly approaching, so his after-school practices were more intense than usual, and were dragging on nearly an hour longer than they should have been. The girls were both overexcited and overly nervous, and they stayed for half an hour after practice seeking comfort and encouragement from their coach.

It was eight o’clock before Iwaizumi left the school, and he would have liked to have gone home and flopped into bed.

The only thing he would have liked more was seeing Semi, so instead of resting, he went home to change and immediately hopped on his bike.

He could always sleep in tomorrow; hopefully in Semi’s bed.

It would have been a short ride to their usual bar, but Iwaizumi passed by it and kept going, weaving through traffic as he crossed to the other side of town.

The most frequented bar on the Shiratorizawa side of the prefecture was, admittedly, nicer than the Seijoh one. That was to be expected due to the recent renovations, but regardless, Iwaizumi preferred Blue Castle Bar. 

That didn’t stop him from pulling into the parking lot of Eagle's Nest Tavern, alongside a shiny silver motorcycle that had been parked outside his apartment the night before. 

He’d been here a couple of times, which wasn’t a surprise. The surprising part was that Oikawa had gone with him, as well as the rest of Seijoh, who had been baffled by Oikawa’s change of heart regarding their Shiratorizawa rivals.

They’d figured it out pretty quickly. Iwaizumi thought Tendou was to blame for that.

Yahaba and Kyoutani were standing outside the door when Iwaizumi approached. Yahaba was smoking a cigarette and Kyoutani was scowling at him. They greeted Iwaizumi – if Kyoutani’s muffled grunt was considered a greeting – and he stepped inside the bar.

There was a crowd of people, more than Iwaizumi would have preferred. He paused in the doorway to scan the room, starting forward only when he caught sight of Ushijima’s broad shoulders. He assumed Semi would be nearby, and he was proven correct.

Semi was slouched over on the table, his head pillowed on his arms and his eyes closed. Iwaizumi dropped into the vacant chair beside him and across the table Oikawa said, “It’s about time, Iwa-chan. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“I took my time,” said Iwaizumi, “because I knew once I got here I’d have to see you.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. “That was rude.”

Ushijima stretched an arm across the back of Oikawa’s chair. “I believe he is only joking, Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s glare slipped toward him. “What – of course he’s joking, Ushiwaka. Anyone would be lucky to see me. I’m delightful.”

“Yes, you are,” said Ushijima, without a touch of sarcasm.

Oikawa scowled and look away, but there was a hint of pink across his cheeks. 

Iwaizumi bit down on a smirk and rested a hand on Semi’s shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

Semi’s eyelids twitched but stayed closed. “Mmhmm.”

“You can’t be this drunk. It’s not even nine o’clock.”

Semi’s mouth curled into a half-grin. He peeled one eye open to take in Iwaizumi. “Not drunk. ‘M just tired. I worked twelve hours today.”

Iwaizumi raised a brow and looked across the table at Ushijima.

“It was necessary,” said Ushijima. “We got an important case. The entire office worked extended hours.”

Iwaizumi had discovered a couple of weeks before that Semi and Ushijima worked together at the law firm. It made Iwaizumi understand Semi’s extreme reluctance to tell Ushijima about their relationship. It wouldn’t have just affected Semi’s status with Shiratorizawa, but perhaps his career, as well.

“What are you doing out, then?” said Iwaizumi, kneading Semi’s shoulders through his leather jacket. “You should’ve gone home and gotten some rest.”

Semi raised his head to look at Iwaizumi properly. “You look like a walking zombie, Iwaizumi. Don’t lecture me about that when you should’ve done the same thing.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even try to argue. “I wanted to see you.”

Semi rested his head on his arms again. “Me too.”

Oikawa made a mock gagging noise across the table. Iwaizumi ignored him.

“Come on, then,” said Iwaizumi. He pushed his chair back and stood, one hand still on Semi’s shoulder. “Let’s go home and get some sleep.”

“You just got here!” said Oikawa. “I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“We had lunch together yesterday,” said Iwaizumi. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at Blue Castle. You coming by, Ushijima?”

“Sure,” said Ushijima, “if Oikawa wants me there.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. Regardless, Iwaizumi had a feeling he’d be seeing Ushijima soon.

They said their goodbyes, passed Yahaba and Kyoutani again on their way out, and paused just long enough to share a cigarette. Either the chill of the night air or the kick of the nicotine seemed to wake Semi up, which was good. Iwaizumi had been worried he would doze off on the ride home.

“You alright?” said Iwaizumi, bumping his shoulder against Semi’s.

Semi exhaled a breath of smoke. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Iwaizumi. “Just call me next time. We’ll get takeout and park our asses on the couch until we fall asleep. Don’t make yourself go out if you don’t feel like it.”

Semi passed over the cigarette and Iwaizumi pinched it between his lips.

“Same for you,” said Semi. “You look like you’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi. “The girls are a mess about the tournament next week. They’re driving me crazy. I don’t know why they’re freaking out. They’re going to do great.”

“What day does the tournament start?” 

“Thursday,” said Iwaizumi, tapping away a flutter of ash. “It’ll run through Saturday if we don’t lose.”

Semi nodded. “That’s what I thought. Ushijima said he’ll cover for me. I’ll be there.”

Iwaizumi fumbled the cigarette. It rolled on the pavement and he quickly stomped it out, hoping Semi hadn’t noticed. Judging from the smirk on his face, he had. 

“Wait,” said Iwaizumi. “You’re… what?”

“I’m going to the tournament,” said Semi. “It’s all you’ve been talking about for the past week. Of course I’ll be there. Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

Iwaizumi just stared. His mind was a static buzz and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Semi saved him the trouble. He curled a hand around the back of Iwaizumi’s neck and kissed him. He tasted like cigarettes, but that was fine, because so did Iwaizumi. When Semi pulled back, he took a step toward the parking lot. “Ready to go? I have some leftovers at my place if you haven’t eaten yet. I’m guessing you haven’t.”

Iwaizumi seized his wrist before he got too far, fingers closing around a leather sleeve and gently tugging him back.

Semi turned with raised brows and a question on his lips. Before he could ask, Iwaizumi said, “I love you.”

If Semi had still been fighting sleep, he was now wide awake. He stared at Iwaizumi in surprise, his mouth slightly open. Color bloomed beneath his skin, dusting his cheeks in a mirror image of the heat burning Iwaizumi’s face.

“Are you sure?” said Semi. 

It was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever said.

Iwaizumi laughed. He dropped his grip from Semi’s wrist to his hand, sliding their fingers together. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The corner of Semi’s mouth twitched. “It’s not just the lack of sleep making you delirious?”

“No,” said Iwaizumi. “I loved you before today. I just didn’t say it.”

Semi’s cheeks went dark, but his smile was bright. He stepped close, curled an arm around Iwaizumi’s waist, and kissed him.

It was slow and gentle, nothing like their first kiss, yet just as intoxicating. Iwaizumi had learned so much about Semi since their first chance meeting, and each new piece of knowledge only made Iwaizumi like him more.

Semi flicked his tongue against Iwaizumi’s lips and pulled back, just far enough to look at him.

“I love you too,” he said, the words as warm as their kiss. 

“Are you sure?” said Iwaizumi, a hint of teasing beneath the words.

Semi shoved him, but it was gentle, and he was still grinning. “Jerk.”

“You love a jerk,” said Iwaizumi.

“Yeah,” said Semi. “I guess I do. Ready to go?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Five minutes later they were cruising toward Semi’s apartment, riding side-by-side, a stripe of black and silver. Iwaizumi couldn’t see Semi’s face through his helmet, but he still knew Semi was smiling.

He was, too. It was easy to do when he was with Semi.

They kept pace all the way there, and the rush of the wind and the roar of the engine had never been so satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honored (and somewhat surprised) that you guys stuck through this extreme rare pair with me. Thank you for reading, and for all the comments and kudos you've left! The accompanying Ushioi oneshot will be posted sometime this weekend, so hopefully you'll enjoy that, also! Thanks again! <3


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